


A Case for Hearth and Home

by alyjude_sideburns



Series: Everything's Jake Series [14]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Case Fic, Drama, Established Relationship, Kid Fic, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-09 13:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyjude_sideburns/pseuds/alyjude_sideburns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair make a momentous decision about moving as they prepare to celebrate their second Halloween with Jake</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Case for Hearth and Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2008 Moonridge charity auction. Set in the Jake Universe. Takes place after "Road Trip"

 

_Prologue_

**Late September**

"It's yellow."

Blair nodded. "With a picket fence."

"You probably always wanted a little yellow house with a white picket fence," Jim said smugly.

"I never even wanted a house, you jerk. And you're the one who had the picket fence growing up, not me, man."

"It has a great dining room," Jim said, ignoring the remark about his childhood home.

"Very important to you-know-who."

"Yep. Impressive sunken living room too."

"A real selling point - that and the fireplace, which is huge. Makes ours look like a small campfire."

They were standing in the driveway of a yellow, one story ranch-style home in a rustic, residential area not far from the Anjasmayo. Blair walked back over to the fence and fingered the white wood. "A nice garland with little white lights would look good woven through these. Red bows every few feet."

"Yeah, and the big picture window was made for the tree."

Blair looked up and over at the large porch. "We could do wheat and hay and spiders and Jake's little ghosties for Halloween."

"Gosh, no one could tell we have a child, could they? We look at a house and see it through the eyes of a soon-to-be five-year-old during the holidays."

Blair chuckled. "We're sunk, man."

"Yep." Then he said more seriously, "The major drawback to this place is that backyard – if an acre of land qualifies as a backyard. Goody will love it, as will the Master-of-the-House, who can run to his heart's content, but we're the ones who'll have to keep it mowed, plucked, trimmed and watered."

"So we hire a couple of neighborhood kids, no problemo," Blair tossed back.

Jim sighed. They were gradually – okay, not so gradually – talking themselves into this one. Then his expression brightened. "Hey, we can sit out on the porch in the evening, in our rocking chairs—"

"Speak for yourself, man. No rocking chair for me – I want a recliner – a fancy one, except during Halloween - no room what with all the haystacks, pumpkins and ghosties."

"You just had to bring Halloween up again, didn't you? Do you have any idea what the chances are that we could get Escrow to close before then? Can we say - impossible?"

"Can we say 'sale contingent on moving in by the 15th', Jim? You heard our agent. The place is empty and the owners are eager to sell as they've already relocated to Tacoma."

Jim fingered the fence while looking past the house to the land in back. His face creased into a frown. "But … apple trees, Sandburg."

"One tree, Jim. _One_ tree. We can handle that," he said confidently.

"You think so?"

"I know so. One small tree with apples – for us. All we can eat."

Jim's expression went from worried to dreamy. "Real apple pie in the fall."

"Turkey, apple and potato stew."

"Fresh applesauce for latkes."

"Apples for the turkey stuffing," Blair added, grinning.

"Gingerbread apple cake."

"Apple upside-down cake."

"Jake can sell apples on the driveway."

Blair nodded sagely.

Behind both men, their real estate agent sat in her car – on her cell – and waited for the house to sell itself.

***

"Jake hasn't liked any of the houses we've shown him yet," Jim reminded on the drive home.

"True."

"That house really isn't us," Jim added. "Yellow with a picket fence and an apple tree?"

"It's not really yellow. More a kind of soft, whipped, eggy yellow. You know, like when you make a cake?"

Jim gave Blair an "are you for real" look. "Sandburg – you're so weird."

"The master bathroom," Blair said longingly. "You have to admit – that was a seller."

"There is that. And the kitchen… don't forget the kitchen. Although, no nook."

"Actually, it has bay window, thus a nook, just no built-in bench seating for a table. But we can do that in one weekend. And let's get back to the bathroom and the tub - spa - or whatever you want to call that swimming pool connected to the shower. It's worth the price of the house all by itself."

Jim chuckled and said, "I know exactly what you're imagining, too."

"I should hope so. We haven't been together long enough for me to be thinking of peaceful solitary bathing."

"I hope you never get to that point, Chief. Bathing alone is for the birds – and they don't. Bathe alone, I mean. Communal all the way."

Grinning, Blair said, "You know, we really could close in time for the holidays."

"If the master of the house likes it," Jim said dubiously.

"So… let's go pick him up now. He's on cloud nine with his birthday party on the horizon, so he's in a good mood for an--"

"Almost five-year-old. Yeah, I get it."

***

"what 'bout my koi?" Jake asked thirty minutes later, his famous pout in full evidence.

It was the same question he asked before seeing every single possible new house and he wasn't disappointing his parents this time.

"John will take care of them and you'll visit all the time," Blair said patiently.

"what 'bout corky? he lives right 'cross the street."

"True, but Cherry is several blocks away. If you like this house and we move into it, you'll be a little farther from Corky, but closer to Cherry and you'll be able to walk to your school," Jim offered.

Jake considered that piece of information, but ultimately remained unconvinced.

"And of course," Jim added as he snuck a peek at his son via the rearview mirror, "this house has a huge backyard and an apple tree. Goody will have a ball and we'll put a doggy door in the back door, just like Mags has for—"

"apple tree?" Jake interrupted. "i'd have my very own apple tree?"

"Yep," Jim said with a satisfied nod.

"i could look at this house – i could," Jake said thoughtfully.

"It's a good thing we're on our way there, then."

"but we shoulda brought goody, poppy. goody will know if this is the one."

"Goody will be happy wherever you are, Hoss," Blair said even as Jim turned onto Applewood Court. He pointed toward the end of the block. "There it is, Jake. That's the one."

Jake strained to look, sitting up against the shoulder straps that kept him safely secured to the car seat. "i can't see it," he whined.

"We're almost there, be patient," Jim said.

Marilyn, their real estate agent, was waiting for them on the porch and, as Jim pulled in behind her Mercedes, gave them a hopeful wave. She'd been through this before and was ready for Jake.

Jim shut off the truck and jumped out a split second before Blair, both eager to unleash their son, who was threatening to bounce the truck into the next century with his excitement. Who knew apple trees had such power, Jim thought as he opened the passenger door and quickly freed his son. Jake immediately jumped down and ran a few steps up the driveway – only to come to a stop, eyes wide with astonishment at the house in front of him.

Blair looked over at Jim and winked as Jim mouthed, "I think he likes it."

Jake finally looked back at his parents, pointed to the porch and said, "mine."

"So much for needing apple trees to convince him," Blair said with a chuckle.

"Yeah, all he needed was a huge, wrap-around porch."

***

Jim was getting desperate. Now that they'd finally managed to drag Jake inside following his claiming of every single blade of grass in the backyard - and the apple tree - all his excitement had slowly ebbed away. Outside, Jake had been as happy as a clam, loving his apples (the tree had started dropping a few already) and the space, but the interior was proving very confusing to him, thanks to the fact that the owners were gone and the place was devoid of furnishings. Apparently, without the furniture, he was having difficulty imagining actually living in the house and was now following silently - and rather forlornly - behind his father. Exasperated, Jim decided to take him to the back of the house and the bedrooms; specifically the one earmarked for Jake. He just hoped it would help bring back some of Jake's enthusiasm.

"This is it, Hoss. Your room," he said a moment later as they stood just inside the doorway.

Jake peeked around his father, uncertain as to whether he wanted to go in.

"Can't you imagine how great it will look?" he asked, almost willing Jake to see the glory that would be his room.

Jake looked woefully up at his poppy and shook his head. "i don't like it, poppy." His eyes glistened with moisture as he buried his face against Jim's leg.

Footsteps behind them heralded the arrival of Blair and Marilyn and, shooting his partner a pleading look, Jim explained, "Jake's having a bit of a problem envisioning his room so unless we camp out back…."

Nodding in understanding, Blair tapped Jake on the shoulder and watched as his son slid his cheek along Jim's jeans to look up at him. Misty blue eyes telegraphed Jake's misery, so Blair held out his arms, which was all Jake needed. He jumped into them and, with a soft laugh, Blair carried him into the empty room and said, "I think your bed would look great right over there, so when you turn over in the morning, you can look out the window and see your apple tree. Your poppy could open up the closet, make it a double door affair, and you'll have lots of drawers and space for everything, including your toys." He turned around. "Now, what do you think about your art table? Here," he pointed to a corner, "or there, a few feet from your bed?"

Jake lifted his head with sudden interest, bit his lower lip, and pointed at the imaginary bed. "there, near the foot of my racing bed. and my easel… uhmmm, there," Jake said, pointing to the opposite corner, which was currently capturing the afternoon sun.

"Oh, I like that. Look how you'll have the afternoon light from the window. By the way, how do you think our table will look in that huge dining room for Thanksgiving?"

"turkey day? dinner? oh, it would look goooooood, daddy! and my piccie, the one my nomi gave us? it would look purrrfect."

Blair walked out of the room and into the hall. Heading toward the living room, he said, "It would, wouldn't it? But what about Christmas and Hanukkah? Where should we put the tree and the menorah?" .

Jim followed the two of them into the main room and watched in wonder as Blair got their son involved in 'decorating' the house. He couldn't help but marvel at his partner's ability to handle this aspect of Jake's upbringing – the use of his imagination. Not that Jim didn't have his strengths where Jake was concerned, because he did. In fact, he and Blair were the yin and yang of raising Jake, both with their specialties to add to the mix of raising a son. But damn, watching Blair work was simply amazing. He felt his heart swell with love and pride.

***

Jake shifted on his poppy's lap and gazed happily out over his new backyard. He and Corky could run forever and play hide-n-seek and no one would ever find them. And he could present Cherry with shiny apples and he could bring one for his teacher and his nomi and Mags. His Uncle Simon and his gampas could come over and chase him and Goody, but they'd never catch them. He smiled dreamily.

"… so I'll present the offer tonight and give you a call as soon as I have any news, Jim."

"Sounds good." Jim glanced down at his son and said, "You ready to go, Hoss? I think your dad said something about his special spaghetti and marinara sauce for dinner. How does that sound?"

"yum." He swiveled his head around to look over at his daddy and asked, "can i get an apple first? to show corky an' cherry tomorrow? can i, please?"

Marilyn ruffled his curls and said, "I don't think the current owners will mind. Go ahead."

Jake slid off his poppy's lap and took off across the lawn toward the tree.

"I'd better go with – make sure he gets a couple of good ones," Blair said as he got to his feet. "Meet you out front."

"I'll have the engine running for a quick get-a-way," Jim said with a grin.

Laughing, Blair hurried after Jake, who was already searching the ground for the perfect fruit.

***

"We just bought a house, Blair."

Blair looked up from the sauce he was stirring and said, "I know, I was there. Don't look so stunned."

"We bought a house," Jim said again, as if he were saying the sky had turned purple.

Blair shook his head in disbelief. "You're going to need electric shock therapy, aren't you?"

Jim grimaced. "Yuk-yuk." Then he said again, "Sandburg, we bought a house. You and I as in we, as in _us_. Two cops. We bought a fucking house on an acre of land. A house."

"Yo, Jim, guess what?"

"What?"

"We bought a house."

"When?"

Blair had just tasted the sauce and now held out the wooden spoon toward Jim. As he reached for it, Blair flicked it at him, thus sprinkling Jim's face with now cooling marinara sauce.

"I deserved that, didn't I?"

"Yep."

"But we bought a house."

"Jim? Dear? Honeybuns? Get over it."

***

**Monday, October 31st**

Jim watched his son run past him, no apparent goal or destination in mind, just mindlessly running from one room to another. He wondered how long Halloween would affect him this way. At least – he hoped this frenetic burst of excited energy was due to it being Halloween. Of course, he couldn't deny that the days leading up to the 31st had been full of change and indecision for their young son, so maybe this weird, aimless running wasn't so hard to understand.

Of course, during the move to their new home, and the subsequent unpacking, Jake had also struggled with the major, life-changing decision of what to wear for his costume.

Should he repeat last year's costume and go as "The Great Wizard, Jake" or perhaps take another direction altogether - like Spiderman, or Superman, or a "policeyman" or maybe go as a fireman? He'd even given some thought to being a hobo so he could wear ratty clothes and get legitimately dirty.

Well, now the big day was finally here, but unfortunately, Jake still hadn't decided. Although, to be fair, he _had_ narrowed his choices down to the Spiderman costume his "grandpa bill" had purchased for him, the Superman costume his "gamppa carl" had brought him, his wizard costume from last year, and the hobo 'dirty stuff' Naomi had provided, "Just in case".

The good news was that even though Jake had no clue yet as to what he'd be wearing, he was very excited about trick-or-treating in his new neighborhood with Cherry and Corky, and equally jazzed about attending the carnival again. Now if only Jake would stop running…or at least slow down.

Jim sighed and went back to perusing his paper, ever hopeful that Blair would arrive any minute. His desires were answered five minutes later when Blair literally blew into the house, arms full of groceries.

"Wow, we're going to have to put long johns on our intrepid…whatever he decides to go as…tonight. It's already dipping below fifty out there. I'm also thinking rocks in his pockets to keep him from blowing away," Blair said as he walked into the kitchen. The door swung shut behind him but of course, Jim could still hear every word….

"It's damn windy out there, man. Hell, I was worried _I'd_ blow away. And where is he, by the… oh, never mind, here he comes…and there he goes…."

Jim watched humorously as Jake ran out of the kitchen, zoomed past the dining room and headed for the family room.

"Has he decided on a costume yet, or is that the reason for the weird running?"

Since Blair didn't have sentinel hearing, Jim put the paper down, got up, and joined his partner. He came up behind him, wrapped his arms around him, and said, "No, and I don't know why he's running like a maniac, but I'm sure hoping you have a solution."

"I'm betting he stops the minute he makes up his mind."

Face screwed up in his typical "I'm a confused parent" expression, Jim asked, "Is that what this is all about? He's running around like a maniac because he's trying to decide what to go as?"

"Could be…and hopefully when he figures it out, he'll run into his room, put on the chosen costume, demand his hamburgers with macaroni and cheese, and 'can we go tricky-treating now, poppy?'"

"How do you know these things?"

"I'm just guessing."

"But you always guess right," Jim whined. "I feel so inadequate."

"Liar."

Jim grinned, bit Blair's ear, and said, "Yep."

Blair shoved a package of ground beef at him and said, "Better start the burgers because when he demands, we'd better be ready to provide."

Laughing, Jim took it and said, "Boy, ain't that the truth. Funny how he is about certain things, isn't it? This is only his second Halloween, and yet, we have 'tradishuns' that must be obeyed. I can hardly wait until Thanksgiving."

Blair filled the pasta pot with water and, as he put it on the stovetop, said, "I think a lot of small children are like Jake. It's one of the few ways they can feel they have control over a world that looms large over them."

"Damn, you're smart."

At that moment, the kitchen door swung open and Jake charged in. He paused long enough to hug his daddy around his legs before charging out the other kitchen door and out into the backyard, Goody still hot on his heels.

"I sure hope he decides soon," Jim said wistfully.

***

Blair looked at his watch and gave a low whistle. It was five-thirty and still no Jake. The good news was that he'd stopped running, more for an exhausted Goody than having made any decision regarding his costume. On the other hand, he was currently holed up in his room, so maybe he'd decided? Blair glanced over at the kitchen door and gave a small shake of his head. The macaroni and cheese was ten minutes from being done, as were the hamburgers, so he really hoped his son came through in time for dinner.

"Okay, table is set, the burgers are on and we still have no decision, Chief," Jim said in an almost uncanny mimic of Blair's own thoughts as he walked out of the kitchen.

"I know, I know. Did you remember the Tillamook?"

"I did. And, as you can see, the buns are warming on the stovetop. I noticed you got his favorite chocolate milk, by the way. Like he isn't going to get enough chocolate tonight?"

"Oh, come on. He's only going to a few houses on our block and then the Anjasmayo. By the time we go through his haul and he sets aside candy for his Nomi, grandfathers, Sally, Simon, you, me--"

"You left off Goody--"

"…and what he sets aside for Goody, he'll have maybe a week's worth of candy left--"

"…at one a day," Jim finished for him.

They grinned at each other before Jim headed back into the kitchen to flip the burgers, but Blair couldn't fail to catch the muttered, "I'd better get a Hershey's Special Dark bar."

Still grinning, Blair shut off his computer and gave thought to perhaps helping his son with the momentous decision. He figured the age of five might be a bit young to be permanently damaged by Halloween.

He was just pushing back the chair when his son marched into the office and commanded, "make me into a hobo, daddy!"

Biting back a grin, he looked down at Jake, who was now resplendent in the tattered old clothing Naomi had brought by. She'd tailored down an old tuxedo jacket, added a torn red flannel shirt, gritty suspenders and floppy shoes, one with the toes open. There was also a pair of fingerless gloves and…wonder of wonders, his old Fargo hat, again, tailored down to fit Jake.

"Well, I see you've decided on going as a hobo. Good choice."

Jake shook his head so violently at Blair's assumption that the Fargo hat slid off. He caught it even as he proclaimed, "no, no, daddy, lookee!" He pulled up the flannel shirt to reveal the blue Superman top with the large "S" emblazoned across the front. "i'm going as supy going undercover as a hobo!"

Damn, was his son brilliant or what?

"and look at this, daddy!" He held out one arm and pulled up the sleeve to reveal the Silly String trick hose that had come with the Spiderman costume.

"Ah, I see. You're Superman, undercover as a hobo, but with the same abilities as Spiderman, right?"

Jake nodded excitedly. " _and_ I'm going to carry my magikal staff because you just never know when supy might need the help of the great wizard jake."

"Son, you are amazing. Come on, we've got a few minutes before dinner is ready, let's see what else we can do to 'hobo' you up."

He took Jake's hand and led him back to his bedroom with a quick side trip to the guest bathroom where Naomi kept some of her beauty items. Fifteen minutes later, a smudged and 'dirty' Jake was led back to the kitchen so Jim could see their handiwork.

"Hey, you guys are just in time. Everything's ready," Jim said as he pulled the hot and bubbling mac and cheese out of the oven. Hands full, he faced Blair and his son and, with a grin so large it nearly split his face in two, he said proudly, "You decided."

His own grin fairly huge, Jake nodded excitedly. "wait'll you see, poppy, wait'll you see," he said before proceeding to show him his entire costume.

Clearly amazed, Jim said, "Jake, I do believe you be the man."

Grinning happily, Jake raised his hand and he and Jim high-fived each other. Then, in typical fashion, Jake said, "i be very hungry – time to chow down!"

With that, he stomped over to the kitchen table and, after sliding in toward his usual seat, looked expectantly up his parents.

"Jake just earned himself a new nickname, Sandburg. Hoss and welp are out – he's now Nappy. Our very own miniature Napoleon."

Laughing, Blair plopped the burgers and buns onto a platter and, while he carried it to the table, Jim put the casserole on the trivet, retrieved the chocolate milk from the fridge, along with a couple of beers, and joined him.

Looking very pleased, and just a bit excited if the bouncing on his booster seat was any indication, Jake watched as his parents finally sat down. Jim started to scoop up a nice helping of the pasta while Blair held the hamburger platter out to Jake. With one eye on the macaroni, he managed, somehow, to take what he felt was the "bestest" bun and the "super-bestest" cheeseburger and place them on his plate. When Jim dropped the semi-huge mound of pasta next to the burger, Jake gave him a raised eyebrow that Jim would have sworn belonged to Blair. But before he could respond, Blair said, "That'll hold you for now, Hoss. Take a tomato slice for your burger and those are your favorite pickles, too."

Jake was too happy to pout or argue so he quickly took a tomato slice - almost with his fingers until a look from his other father quelled the impulse – and four pickles (a new fascination). He built his burger with great care, adding a dollop of mustard, a squirt of ketchup and a dab of mayonnaise, more for the sake of artistic achievement than a love of mayo. Once his burger was ready, Blair cut it in half for him. Now that everything was ready, Jake was left with the terrible choice of which to try first: the burger or macaroni.

He chose…chocolate milk.

Jim and Blair were immediately serenaded by Jake's delighted slurping and "yummmming". When he was done, he dug into the mac and cheese and, after three big bites, turned his attention to the burger. While chewing, he grinned at his parents, showing off his rainbow upper lip, thanks to the chocolate, mustard, ketchup, mayo and cheddar cheese, and said, "yummy!"

"Gee," Jim said. "I think he's happy."

"I think you're right. But then, feed a hobo, and you're going to get happy."

Jake nodded his agreement. "very happy, daddy. i be a very happy hobo."

"No doubt."

As they continued to eat, Jim found himself glancing around their new kitchen. They'd only been in the house a shade under two weeks and, while completely unpacked, there were still a few things left they both wanted to do to make it truly theirs. But, he thought happily, the kitchen nook and the set-in bench and table wasn't one of them. They'd finished that little project the same weekend they'd moved in. It was similar to the nook at the Anjasmayo, but this one was tucked in beneath the large bay window that overlooked the backyard and, of course, the kitchen itself was both larger - and thanks to the windows, sunnier.

The other item they'd done almost immediately was to make sure Jake's room was completed. They'd allowed Jake to choose the colors for the walls and, thanks to Megan, it included a beautifully hand-painted mural representing Jake's wonderful world of superheroes and animals. Weewah, the baby gorilla, Goody, Jake's new pony and, of course, Jakey the wolfpup and Cha, the no-longer-lonely jaguar were there in all their glory. Behind the animals stood Spiderman, Superman, Gandalf (thanks to Jake's new interest in reading The Hobbit) and of course, Dumbledore and Harry Potter.

But even with all they'd accomplished, and the few things they had left to do, Jim was pretty sure that the kitchen was his favorite room in the house…well, okay, second favorite, the bedroom taking top honors. Yeah, the bedroom definitely came in first thanks to the new king-sized bed with the special body molding topper that Jim had fallen in love with after one night. Of course, the athletic events that took place in the bedroom had nothing to do with its place at the top of the list. No sir.

Jake's loving noises as he ate interrupted Jim's 'athletic' thoughts and he turned his attention to his son. He gave a small shake of his head and wondered again if Jake was truly happy. The eating noises had begun during the move and, at first, he and Blair had thought it was Jake's way of coping with the change, but he seemed so content that they'd quickly ditched that explanation. Now they were settling on the infamous, "It's just another phase" explanation used by parents around the world to come to terms with the odd behavior of their children. Of course, to the best of their knowledge, no other child had gone through this specific phase, but wasn't that their Jake all over? And hell, Jim was just grateful Jake wasn't actually talking to the food, just kind of…humming over it.

But damn, he sure looked cute as a 'super' hobo. Blair had done a great job with Jake's face and he looked both sooty and beardish. The Fargo hat would forever stay in Jim's memory, first having seen it on Blair all those years ago, and now on their son. As soon as dinner had been erased from the hobo face, he'd get out both the digital camera and the video cam. This was one costume that had to be forever commemorated.

***

Plate empty and devoid of even a crumb, Jake looked up imploringly as he proceeded to put Oliver Twist to shame by asking, "more, please?"

Jim took the ladle, scooped up another mound of pasta and plopped it on Blair's plate. Jake slapped his hands over his face and groaned out a long, "popppppeeeeee" even as Blair said, "Why thank you, Jim. You're going to have another helping, aren’t you?"

"I do believe I could handle one more spoonful. Jake, would you like a bit more or are you stuffed?"

Peeking through his fingers, Jake went with another, "popppppppeeeee" as his answer.

Grinning, Jim dropped another spoonful – albeit much smaller than the first helping – onto Jake's plate, who finally took his hands down. Peeking out from under his lashes, Jake then asked slyly, "goody should have some too, poppy."

"No, Goody shouldn't, young man. She's had her own food just as you have yours and the twain shall not meet."

Face scrunched up in thought, Jake said, "twain? why can't the twain meet, poppy? i'll meet the twain, i will."

Angelic expression in place, Blair asked, "Yeah, Jim, why can't the twain meet?"

"Jake, finish your dinner, Blair…just…you know…eat."

Blair tried hard not to laugh, but damn, Jim made it so hard sometimes. He quickly looked down and away, grateful for the window, which gave him something to look at.

Fortunately for Jim, Jake was intent on finishing off the small second helping of pasta so the "twain" was temporarily - and hopefully permanently – forgotten.

After dinner, all three worked together to tidy up, with Jake carefully carrying dishes to his fathers. Jim rinsed and handed off to Blair, who put them into the new dishwasher. Because Jake knew he'd be allowed a couple of goodies at the carnival, he didn't ask about dessert, instead choosing to stand impatiently by the sink, foot tapping and knees wiggling, both telegraphing his eagerness to get Halloween started. Eventually the kitchen was done and, with perfect timing, the doorbell rang. Jake's head shot up, eyes wide with excitement.

"that's them, isn't it, poppy?"

 

 

 

Jim nodded even as he wiped his hands on a towel. "It sure is. Let's go meet and greet and get this show on the road."

Jake was way ahead of him.

Laughing, Blair picked up the large, orange, jack-o-lantern bowl full of candy and, together, they followed their son to the front door.

***

"trick-or-treat, jakey!" Cherry cried out as Jake pulled the door open.

He nearly jumped out at his friend, but stopped in time. She was dressed as an angel, all white lace, gossamer wings and a halo, so he instinctively knew not to 'muss' her up.

"Oh, Jake, I love your costume," Makeba said. "You make a wonderful hobo, sweetie."

Tearing his eyes from the vision that was his future wife, Jake looked up at Makeba and said, "i be everything! see?" He promptly showed off - just as he'd done for his fathers - and received the much enjoyed cooing of appreciation from Cherry.

"Hey, guys, come on in," Blair said as he walked up behind Jake. He held the bowl up and added, "Shall I christen the Halloween bags?"

In answer, Cherry held out hers and, while Jake ran back to get his 'hobo stick and goodie bag', Blair dropped one of the full-size candy bars into Cherry's. She made a satisfied "oooh" sound and smacked her lips just as Jake thundered back into the entry hall and skidded to a stop in front of his dad. Holding the special 'kerchief' sack made for him by Naomi, he said endearingly, "trick or treat, sir!"

Looking up at Jim, Blair asked, "Do we have anything more substantial for a poor hobo? Maybe some good, rib-sticking beef stew?"

"oh, i be very happy with chocoooo-late, sir!"

Before Blair could answer, there was another knock at the door and, candy bar momentarily forgotten, Jake opened it up, certain that it was Corky. He was right and both boys jumped into each other's arms, ignoring costumes in their enthusiasm. After all, they hadn't seen each other since school and they were boys - not angels.

Smiling up at Corky's father, Blair said, "Glad you could bring him, Ben. Can you join us for the attack on the unsuspecting neighbors?"

Ben grinned and said, "I thought I might. I missed taking him last year, what with his being sick and all. But the carnival is out - I've got to pick Cordy up and get to my boss's party by eight." He handed Jim a small duffle bag and asked, "What time should I pick the Corker up tomorrow?"

"We have the day off, as does Terry, so we're all meeting at Ramos House for brunch. Any chance you and Cordy could join us and take him from there?"

"Actually, I'm working from home tomorrow, so that sounds great. What time?"

Blair, who was trying to keep the candy bowl out of reach of three pairs of greedy hands, said, "We've got reservations for eleven. Sound okay?"

"I'll double check with the wife and if you don't hear from us later tonight, we'll be there."

"Great," Jim said enthusiastically. He was about to shut the door when he heard Naomi's car turn onto their street. He grinned down at Jake and said, "Your grandmother should be here any second. She'll be thrilled to see you all decked out as a hobo."

"my nomi? where? where?"

He couldn't have timed his query any better as Naomi's Ford Taurus pulled into the driveway in time with the last "where". Jake immediately pushed his way past the adults to step out onto the decorated porch and wave happily. Naomi responded with a short honk before shutting off the engine and getting out of the car. The moment her feet hit the ground, Jake took off and, when in reach, launched himself at her while proclaiming at the top of his voice, "lookee, my nomi, look at me!"

***

"I swear, Jake, you are the bestest of Halloween dressers," Naomi said as she had Jake turn around again and model the entire costume. She'd already complimented Cherry on her angel costume and Corky on his pirate outfit and now gave Jake one last whistle of appreciation.

Jake grinned broadly, but a moment later, it faded from view as he whined, "are you _absoluteleeee, positiveleeeey_ , positive that you can't come with us, my nomi?"

"If I did, who'd pass out all this candy to everyone?" she responded as she held up the bowl.

"i guess someone has to do it or we might get a trick! but you'll be here when we get home, won't you?"

"Absolutely, Jake," she agreed. "Now, you guys get going because I can already see a few ghosts and goblins heading our way."

After exchanging Eskimo and butterfly kisses with Jake, and quick hugs with Jim and Blair, Naomi ushered them all out the front door just as the first group of trick-or-treaters walked up the driveway.

***

"This is beyond weird," Jim hissed. "We're on the curb just like all these other parents, watching our kids race up and down walkways, jamming their fingers into doorbells and screeching, 'Trick-or-treat.' How did this happen?"

Blair rolled his eyes heavenward, poked Jim in the side and asked, "Why do these things always surprise you? It's been a year now - this is our second Halloween, for crying out loud."

"Not officially," Jim grumbled. "We weren't a family then."

Blair gave an airy wave of his hand. "Semantics, man. Semantics."

"Chief, we're the only gay couple out here."

"Wait, is that what's bothering you?" Blair whispered harshly.

"Well…no," Jim offered grudgingly. "Not exactly."

"Then what?"

"Sandburg, we're cops. Guardians of the city, the good guys who bring down terrorists, drug runners and murderers on a regular basis, and yet, here we are, on the sidewalk, on Halloween--"

"poppy! poppy! lookeeee what i got! ya gotta look!"

Grimy, hobo-painted face shining with glee and undisguised Halloween-candy avarice, Jake bounded up to his fathers and held out his bag for Jim's inspection. His rant halted mid-sentence by his son, Jim had no choice but to look.

"do you see, poppy? do you see?"

Sharp sentinel eyes quickly sorted through the normal mini-bars, suckers, Tootsie Roll pops and securely wrapped popcorn balls to zero in on a large bag of colorful Gummi Worms. He whistled low and said, "Wow, Hoss. Those are real beauties."

Nodding excitedly, Jake quickly showed his other father even as he continued to ramble on. "…and there must be a zillion of 'em in the bag, poppy! a million zillion of the bestest gummi worms in the world! an' did you see the colors? did you? did you?"

"I saw, Jake. Every color in the rainbow. True works of Gummi art and totally delicious."

"I agree," Blair said, herding the three children unobtrusively toward the next house.

Corky, with an uncharacteristic pout, said, "i didn't get no gummies, i only got a tiny bag of malt balls."

Cherry patted him on the shoulder and commiserated. "i know, cork, i know. i got the same." She turned calculating eyes on Jake and smiled winningly. "but you'll share, won't you, jakey?"

Chest puffed out, Jake said, "a'course. there's enough for everyone!"

Jim, suddenly proud and awed, watched as the three scampered up another walkway to another beautifully and spookily decorated house.

"Yep," Blair said smugly. "Two macho cops like us, doing Trick-or-Treat duty? It's damn shameful, that's what it is."

Eyes glued to his son, Jim muttered, "Oh, shut up, Sandburg."

Blair grinned.

***

The last house had been plundered for goodies along with the last apartment at the Anjasmayo. Ben and Makeba had taken their leave - both with Halloween bags full of candy - and now, finally, Jim and Blair, with three children in tow, were on their way to the carnival. Jake, Cherry and Corky were oddly quiet in the back seat and Jim actually found himself missing the chatter. On the other hand, he suspected they were just gearing up for their second wind.

Blair was silent beside him, a small smile on his lips. It didn't take a genius to figure out he was reliving Jake's proud declaration to John, the manager of the Anjasmayo, that he now had his very own "backyard and my very own apple tree!" - all of which told both Jim and Blair that Jake had finally let go of the only other home he remembered.

As they made the turn onto Livingston, Jim amended that thought - Jake still claimed the Anjasmayo as his, along with the koi and the pond in which they lazily swam, but that was much different than missing it as his home the way he had in their first days following the move. In fact, he'd missed it so much, there'd been a couple of nights when his sniffling and tears had resulted in moving him into their bed. Fortunately, as the house began to take shape and their belongings placed lovingly in each room, Jake's mood improved. The real proof though, had come the previous Sunday, a lazy "we're done unpacking" Sunday morning, that found Jim rising early and deciding that it was time for waffles in their new kitchen The smell had eventually roused both Jake and Blair, who, together, had stumbled into the sun-dappled kitchen, taken their seats in the new kitchen nook and, between yawns, sniffed appreciably. Jake, on his booster, had gazed around the lovely yellow room, glanced outside to see the fall colors running riot over their trees, then back at his plate, which now held a golden waffle, and pronounced softly, but possessively, "my home."

"Look, guys, there's the carnival," Blair suddenly pointed out. Three heads shot up just as Jim turned into the parking lot.

"oooh, lookee, the haunted house," Jake said as he pointed toward the large black tent. "jest like last year!"

"'cept i'm going in this time," Cherry announced.

"you better," Jake said. "you too, cork. i hope they have frankeystein fingers again. those were yummmmmmmy."

Jim pulled into a spot and he and Blair got the children out of the back and helped them re-adjust their costumes while reciting - one more time - the rules for the evening. When they were ready, and all three had again agreed to obey the rules, Corky took Blair's hand, Jake took Jim's and, with Cherry in the middle and clasping hands with Corky and Jake, they headed into the carnival, sawdust and straw crunching under their feet.

*****

Jim sighed. Last year had been so much easier. Just two children, one of whom stayed mostly on his lap while Jake and Blair did all of the adventuring. Not so this year. Cherry was older, braver and thus willing to do everything, which meant that he and Blair did everything - damn it.  
  
"You're just complaining because you're expected to," Blair suddenly said. They were just exiting the haunted house, all three of their charges munching contently on meringue fingers - similar to last year's, but chocolate.  
  
Jim paused to stare at his other half before saying, "You know, Sandburg, sometimes you're just plain creepy."  
  
"What can I say? I know you too well. You were thinking about last year and how you got to sit out most of the evening, but we both know you're having the time of your life."  
  
"Busted. And you're still scary."  
  
"Gosh, and I'm not even in costume."  
  
"So you say."  
  
"Man, if it weren't so undignified, I'd jump up and swat you on the back of your head…."  
  
"Very funny, Chief. Very funny. And making short jokes is my gig. No trespassing."  
  
"Seems only fair since balding jokes are mine," Blair muttered under his breath - knowing full well that Jim could hear every word. Before Jim could retaliate, Blair moved quickly ahead, pointing out the mini-rollercoaster on their left. That was all their three charges needed to take off, all eager to be first in line.  
  
***  
  
"So what are the chances he could win again?" Blair asked.  
  
"I don't know - all the costumes are excellent, including Corky's pirate outfit," Jim said worriedly. "Although… losing isn't a bad thing…."  
  
"I know, it's a part of life and something every child needs to learn - but maybe he could learn it next year?" Blair said hopefully.  
  
Laughing, Jim said, "We're such…parents."  
  
Smiling in spite of himself, Blair said, "Prideful parents."  
  
Jim watched the makeshift stage where his son stood quietly, but not still, his nervousness apparent in the shifting from one foot to the other, and whispered, "And hopeful, don't leave out hopeful."  
  
Both men glanced at each other and then held up crossed fingers.  
  
***  
"…and for the spookiest costume of the evening, Mr. Robbie Cummings as…Frankenstein!"  
  
Everyone applauded as the miniature monster stepped up to receive his blue ribbon. Once it was pinned on, the eight year old ran down the steps and over to his very excited parents. There were still seven children left on the stage, Corky and Jake among them. Cherry had already won again, for most beautiful costume, and now sat on Jim's lap, hands clasped almost in prayer.  
  
"he's gotta win, mister jim - he's just *got* to!"  
  
"Lots of good costumes up there, sweetie. This is going to be a tough one."  
  
"not for my jakey!"  
  
Jim couldn't argue with that so he just smiled and kissed the top of her angelic head.  
  
"Here it comes," Blair said with a jab of his elbow into Jim's side. "Fingers crossed, everyone."  
  
The head judge walked back up to the microphone and smiling out over the crowd, said, "We're down to our last award for this year's Costume contest in the under ten category, so, without further ado or procrastination or stalling, or--"  
  
One of the parents standing a few feet from the stage yelled out, "Just say it, Hank!"  
  
Laughing, Hank held up his hands in surrender and said, "Fine, fine, I get it - no humor, no witty repartee, no--"  
  
"The award!" the crowd yelled in humorous unison.  
  
Laughing, Hank nodded and said, "This year, the voting for Best Overall Halloween costume was a tough one, and in fact," he paused dramatically, "we have a… tie! So, our first blue ribbon winner goes to… Number twelve, the fierce pirate!"  
  
Corky nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized that he was number 12 and, after hugging and high-fiving Jake, he walked up to receive his award. Eyes shining, he started to walk to the steps that would take him down to Jim and Blair, but stopped at the last minute. Turning back around, he asked, "but who won the *other* blue ribbon?"  
  
"What a coincidence, I was just about to announce that the other costume that tied for first place is… Number thirteen, the imaginative Superman disguised as a Hobo!"  
  
Corky ran back to his friend and they slapped their right hands against each other's, gave out with a "whoop!" before Corky pushed Jake forward to accept his ribbon. Once they were both congratulated, they walked to the steps, eyes on their prizes, and started down. Jim and Blair, both quick to see that the two boys weren't exactly at the top of their game, hurried over to help them. Blair took Corky while Jim lifted Jake into his arms, where, coincidently, Cherry sat, eyes gleaming with pride.  
  
"You know, Jim, I think a celebration is in order. Maybe a couple of funnel cakes split five ways?"  
  
"Sounds great to me, Chief."  
  
Jake, still staring at his ribbon, said, "hot chocolatey too, poppy?"  
  
"Can't have funnel cakes without."  
  
Short curls shook as Jake wagged his head back and forth. "nope!"  
  
Laughing, they walked back over to their bench and, as the children were seated, Blair said, "You keep watch, I'll get the goodies and be right back."  
  
Jim, who found himself with three blue ribbons stuck in front of his face, could only nod while he "ooohed" and "aahed." Smirking, Blair trotted off toward one of the food booths.  
  
Left alone with the 'winners', Jim realized he was going to have to turn his hearing down a notch or two, thanks to their constant chatter as each tried to outtalk the others in order to get his attention. He found, as he often did when faced with these particular five-year- olds, that as long as he grinned and nodded, they were happy. He had a feeling that by the time Blair - traitor that he was - returned, he'd have a crick in his neck and a sore mouth.  
  
***  
  
Blair walked down the hallway, tired but happy. Jake, Corky and Cherry were bedded down and already drifting off, any thoughts of covert playing once the lights were out having been drowned in yawns and sleepy eyes. But Blair knew they'd be up bright and early in the morning - he just hoped they'd be quiet enough that he'd be able to sleep in to at least eight…or nine. Yeah, nine would be a luxury.  
  
By the time he got back to the living room, Jim had a fire going, Jake's candy spread out for inspection, and a box of Ziplock bags ready. He also had a couple of Irish coffees sitting on the table, both steaming and very inviting. Blair picked up one, sniffed appreciatively, and said, "All this even though I left you alone with them at the carnival?"  
  
"I can turn my hearing down, you can't," Jim said as he took a couple of bags out of the box. "Besides, you took them while I stopped and talked with Dave, so I figure we're even."  
  
"Good point," Blair said as he sank down into the large, comfortable couch. He took a sip of his drink and decided to simply relax and enjoy the show. Watching Jim separate the candy was just too good to pass up. Last year it had been his show - this year, Jim's.  
  
"Who'd give a kid this kind of crap?" Jim asked as held up a piece of melted and clearly old candy. "It's criminal."  
  
"Leftovers from last year," Blair guessed.  
  
"Then we have a truly crummy neighbor and, when I find him - because we both know that no mother would do this - he's going to find himself haunted by the Cascade PD and tickets up his ass."  
  
"Abuse of power, shame on you," Blair admonished. Of course, the chastisement would have had a great deal more impact if not for the huge grin that accompanied it.  
  
"If you have it, flaunt it - but only when your child is given crap at Halloween."  
  
"So," Blair said, his voice low and inviting, "just how long do you think it will take to separate his haul into 'keep' and 'toss' baggies?"  
  
Recognizing the husky tone, Jim glanced up, one eyebrow rising. "Why? You have something in mind for when I'm done?"  
  
Blair didn't have to answer, his expression was telegraphing his intentions loud and clear, but when Jim started working faster, there was no way he could contain his laughter.  
  
***  
  
Ramos House was located in Old Cascade, which included the oldest buildings in the city as well as the first 'official' street. The six block area had been fully renovated but in a manner that kept the old world charm of the first settlers. It was touristy and busy, but, since it was Tuesday and Jim had made reservations, they didn't have a long wait. The restaurant was a favorite for Jim, Blair and Jake, and at least once a month, they'd enjoy a leisurely brunch. The place was actually an old settler's home and the dining area was outside but protected by a plant-covered lattice and stretches of "designer tin" as Blair called it. Jake loved it because it sat next to the Amtrak train station and, while eating, at least one train would pull in and out of the station.  
  
Now they sat at one of the huge family tables (one of only three), Jake, Corky and Cherry busy coloring (courtesy of the restaurant) while waiting for Terry, Makeba, and Corky's parents. Naomi was perusing the menu, even though both Blair and Jim knew she'd have what she always had when she joined them: the wild mushroom, roasted garlic and sun dried tomato scramble. Jim was currently vacillating between the roast turkey hash with mushrooms, scrambled eggs and apple cider gravy and the smoked bacon scramble with baby spinach and caramelized onions. He was pretty sure he was going to go with the turkey hash and he knew darn well that Blair would have his usual: the crab hash with bacon, scrambled eggs and a sour cream-based remoulade. It was naturally a given that Jake would have the restaurant's version of French toast, the banana-maple Pain Perdu.  
  
"daddy, mommy!"  
  
Cherry's voice got Jim's attention and he looked up from the menu to see Terry and Makeba walking toward them. Cherry was up immediately and throwing herself at both of them, but it was Terry who did the catching. He swooped her up into his arms and, laughing, they made their way to the table.  
  
Jim got to his feet, as did Blair, but Makeba waved a hand and said, "Down, fellas, down."  
  
As Terry set Cherry next to Jake, he said, "Lord, we haven't been here in…how long, honey?"  
  
"At least two years," Makeba said as she slid in next to Naomi.  
  
"Well, we're very glad you decided to join us today," Naomi said. "I imagine the menu's a bit different - John changes it constantly."  
  
"I just hope they have those apple beignets," Terry said as he took the menu Blair was holding out.  
  
"oh, they do, they do," Jake piped up. "that's what we're having as…as…."  
  
"Starters," Blair offered with a smile.  
  
"yup! starters. me an' cork an' cherry are gonna split - one for each of us."  
  
Terry shared knowing looks with his wife before saying, "Seems to me that if you three can do that, then so can we." He put a finger to his forehead and said in a dramatic voice, "I see a future of…several orders of beignets…."  
  
"Wow, you're good," Blair said. "But not good enough. I'm going for the fruit and Jim can't skip the blueberry coffee cake." He looked over at his mother and asked, "Mom? What about you?"  
  
"I'm skipping the starters today. You know I always overdo here and end up taking more home than I eat - and then once home, you-know-who gets it the next day."  
  
Jake looked up from his coloring and, wicked eyebrow rising, said, "i'm 'you-know-who' so make sure you order gooooood, my nomi!"  
  
"See what I mean?"  
  
When the laughter died down, Terry asked, "Weren't Cordy and Ben supposed to join us?"  
  
"They sure are," Jim answered as he took in the street beyond the entrance. "In fact, I think they're trying to find a parking place right now."  
  
Naturally everyone with their back to the street, namely Terry, Makeba and Naomi, turned to look in vain. Naomi shrugged and said, "Why do I bother?"  
  
"I know," Terry groused. "Just how many carrots did you have to eat when you were a kid, anyway?"  
  
"A pack a day," Blair answered for Jim, his lips quirking up.  
  
Jake dropped his crayon and asked, "can i have carrots with my brekkie? can i?"  
  
"I don't think they have carrots in anything, Hoss, but you can have some for dinner tonight, all right?" Jim said even as he kicked Blair under the table.  
  
Before Blair could retaliate, Corky pulled a Cherry by jumping up and taking off - toward his parents, who'd just walked in.  
  
Moments later, the table was full, the adults were chatting and the children were coloring happily even as their stomachs growled.  
  
***  
  
"…no way, they'll be in it and deep," Terry insisted.  
  
"I don't think so, man. They traded down when they let Cummings go for Halliwell," Blair said.  
  
"Halliwell may be unpredictable and inconsistent, but when he's on, he's on in a big way, Blair. You can't deny that. He'll fire up the team - he's just what the Jags need."  
  
"Problem is," Jim interjected, "he was rarely 'on' and the Lakers couldn't get rid of him fast enough. What does that say?"  
  
Before Terry could respond, their waitress walked up and asked cheerily, "Everyone ready to order or do you need a bit more time?"  
  
Jim glanced over at Ben and Cordelia, both of whom nodded that yes, they'd decided. Jim grinned and said, "Looks like we're ready."  
  
"In that case, why don't I start with the beautiful young lady at the end there," she said as she indicated Cherry.  
  
"may i please have the macaroni and cheese?"  
  
"Absolutely. And to drink?"  
  
"lemonyade, please."  
  
"Excellent choice." She looked expectantly at Jake, who said, "me an' corky would like to share the pan poopperdoo, please, and me an' cork an' cherry wanna share the beeeenyays, please. oh, and i want the hot chocolate with lots and lots and lots of whupped cream."  
  
"Ah, very good, sir. And what would Mr. Corky like to drink?"  
  
Jake cocked his head at his friend, who looked imploringly at his parents. Cordy nodded and said, "You can have the hot chocolate too, sweetie."  
  
Beaming from ear to ear, Corky said, "i will have the hot chocolate too and with the exact same amount of whipping cream, please."  
  
"I'll make sure of it," their waitress promised. She then went around the table and ended up with an order for two of the crab hash scrambles (Blair and Terry), two turkey hash scrambles (Jim and Ben), one fried chicken salad (Makeba), one lintel soup with confit of duck and gingerbread croutons (Cordy) and the wild mushroom scramble (Naomi). There were also three orders of the beignets, two of the fruit salad and two of the sweet corn hush puppies. Ben and Cordy both ordered the spicy Bloody Marys while Naomi and Makeba went for the Mimosas. Terry and Jim went for coffee, Blair a cappuccino.  
  
The waitress, after promising to bring the drinks and starters in just a few minutes, went off to put their order in.  
  
"I'm so glad you suggested this, Jim," Cordelia said while watching her son discuss the merits of red versus black for a warrior's shield with Jake.  
  
Before Jim could answer, his pager went off. With an 'Oh no' look at Blair, he pulled it out of his pocket, read the number and said, "It's Simon." Looking apologetic, he added,  
"I'll be right back, I need to call our boss." As he got to his feet, he wagged a warning finger at Blair. "Do *not* eat my coffee cake if it comes while I'm on the phone."  
  
"Hey, man, I've got my fruit, your starter's safe from me, but I can't vouch for them." He jerked a thumb in the general direction of their son and his partners in crime.  
  
"Oh, right, I'm real worried about them - not." With a wink for Jake, who was grinning, he headed out to the street and better cell phone reception.  
  
Once away from prying ears, he punched in Simon's number.  
  
*"Banks."*  
  
"Simon, Jim."  
  
*"Sorry to interrupt your day off, but Judge Keeler was just found in the underground parking garage of the courthouse, level 3. Looks like she was killed late last night. I need you and Sandburg on it now."*  
  
"We're on our way. Be there in twenty."  
  
He hung up and headed back.  
  
***  
  
"but poppy, what 'bout your food?" a worried Jake asked.  
  
"You make sure our nice waitress packs everything up for us, all right? I'm putting you in charge because daddy and I will want it all when we get home."  
  
Looking very serious, Jake nodded. "i'll make sure they pack it up gooooood."  
  
"Thank you, Son. I knew we could count on you."  
  
With that, both Jim and Blair kissed him, offered their apologies again, thanked Naomi for taking Jake, and finally said their goodbyes - goodbyes that might have been a great deal more difficult if not for the fact that Jake was surrounded by his friends and seemingly happy as a clam.  
  
Once outside, and as they hurried to the truck, Jim passed the same information to Blair that Simon had given him. As Blair slid in to his seat and reached for the seatbelt, he said, "Judge Keeler? Who the hell would want to hurt her? She's got one of the best reputations out there. Straightforward, fair - one of the good guys."  
  
"True, but she was a judge and presided over several important and high-profile cases in her career. Could be a disgruntled defendant, could be anything."  
  
"Yeah, sure, but man, we're talking Rebecca Keeler."  
  
Face grim, Jim said, "I know. I know."  
  
***  
Lights and siren on, Jim drove through the streets of Cascade, his thoughts on the woman he'd known for several years. He doubted there was a cop out there who hadn't known her, or at least of her. She'd been highly respected, had been, as Blair said, 'one of the good guys'. Judge Rebecca Keeler had cared, truly cared, about the law and justice, and now she was dead.  
  
Murdered.  
  
When he made the left into the underground garage, he cut the siren but left on the light, allowing it to pave the way through the already strong police presence.  
  
He drove up to level 3, where the entire west side was cordoned off by the typical 'crime scene' yellow tape and parked next to the CSI van. As he and Blair walked toward the Judge's car, he reflected on the last time he'd seen her. It had been at her home a month ago, for her fiftieth birthday. Her husband, Robert Keeler, an antiques expert who'd just opened his own business, had planned a surprise party for the milestone, going so far as flying friends in all the way from Florida. He'd also made sure that just about every important person in the city, and a good chunk of the law enforcement community, were in attendance as well.  
  
Jim could still see the total shock on Judge Keeler's face when the lights had come on and everyone yelled out, "Surprise!" The look of love and appreciation given to her husband had reminded Jim of the way Blair often looked at him; a look that was far different from the expression on Rebecca Keeler's face now.  
  
Serena was already there, kneeling beside the body. She glanced up as they joined her, Jim crouching down next to her, his eyes already traveling over the body.  
  
"Even though you don't need to hear me say it, I'll put it on record anyway," Serena said. "She died sometime between eight last night and two this morning, but that's a rough estimate based on body temp. It was damn cold last night so I'll be doing a CIE when I get her to the lab. Her purse wasn't taken and we've already ascertained that nothing of value seems to be missing. Her wallet, checkbook, credit cards, cash, all there. And as you can see, she still has her watch, rings, etc."  
  
Jim nodded even as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of gloves and a baggie. "Tweezers?"  
  
She pulled a pair from her pocket and placed them in the palm of his now gloved hand. He immediately leaned over and plucked three strands of material from her camel-colored coat. Holding them up to the light, he said, "Cashmere." He glanced over her clothing and noted the complete lack of anything made of the material. As he bagged them, he noticed the gloves peeking out of her coat pocket and glanced down at her hands. Well manicured nails, soft skin, discolored in death, but to sentinel eyes, proving the total lack of struggle. No broken nails, no bruising or scratches, nothing.  
  
"What's wrong with this picture?" he asked as he handed Serena the baggie and indicated the bruising around her neck. "Doesn't take a genius to see that she was strangled, and yet her hands, clothing, even her hair, looks as if she just decided to lie down and take a nap next to her car." He glanced at Serena and said, "Run a tox screen first, please?"  
  
"Will do." She waved her assistant over and asked, "When you're done, let him know and we'll bag her and get her to my lab."  
  
He nodded and, as she slowly got to her feet and moved away, Blair took her place. "Did you notice the ground around her and the car?" he asked.  
  
Jim lifted his gaze and checked the area. "No scuff marks."  
  
"Nope, and look at her shoes. Those are Frisoni and run upwards of six hundred bucks - or more. If she was strangled here, they'd be a mess, right? When you fight being strangled, you use your legs, your feet, you kick back, your feet slide and dig in…those shoes of hers have nothing but the barest wear and tear on the soles."  
  
Jim gave his partner a strange look. "Do you mind telling me how the hell you know what kind of shoes she's wearing? You have a closet shoe fetish I don't know about?"  
  
"Very funny - not. I got a lesson in Frisoni, Prada, Escada, Atwood, all from Dad. He was trying to determine where to invest. And in case you care, he went with Frisoni."  
  
"Gotta love having a rich partner."  
  
"You don't. You have a partner with a rich father. Oh, hey, wait. I have a partner with a rich father too. Imagine that."  
  
"Where's her briefcase?" Jim suddenly asked.  
  
Blair immediately got up and, walking gingerly around the body, looked inside the late model Jaguar. "Nothing here, Jim. Spotless inside, not even a cup in the cup-holder. But then, with her purse and keys on the ground there, I'm not surprised."  
  
"She could have put her case in the trunk."  
  
"True. You want me to check?"  
  
"Yeah, just to cover our bases."  
  
Blair bent over and, slipping a gloved finger inside the key ring, lifted the keys and walked to the back of the car. Being very careful, he inserted what he guessed was the trunk key into the lock - and the trunk popped open. "As clean and empty as the  
interior," Blair said as he closed it. Walking back to Jim, he pulled a baggie out of his pocket and dropped the keys into it, then labeled it.  
  
Jim got to his feet with a larger bag from Serena's case and immediately bagged the purse, fully intending on going through it once they got inside. Turning to Blair, he said, "Let's head upstairs, check out her chambers and then start the interviews."  
  
***  
  
It was obvious the news had spread. Judge Keeler's Court Service Officer, Martha Evans, was clearly distraught and had obviously been crying. Her clerk, Matthew Stark, was sitting at his desk, head in hands. Other court personnel were moving in and out of the area, all looking rather ghostly, pale and strange, as they tried to offer comfort to either Martha, Matthew or both. Seeing Jim and Blair, their badges prominently displayed, they moved out of the way, most heading back to their own offices to await their turn at being questioned  
  
Blair leaned in close and whispered, "You have to admit, this is the kind of case where everyone knows their duty and exactly what's going to happen."  
  
Jim didn't have a chance to answer as Matthew Stark lifted his head to peer blearily up at them. "Detective Ellison, I'm glad it's you." He got up rather shakily and added, "Martha said we should use the Judge's…that we can have some privacy…but would you mind if we don't? I can't…couldn't…not in there, not now."  
  
"Actually, we need to check her chambers first, but when we're finished, perhaps we could set up in the anteroom for the interviews?"  
  
"Oh, of course, yes. I should have thought of that." He ran his fingers through his dark, curly hair and said, "Let me show you in. Martha isn't…she's not doing well, as you noticed, I'm sure. This has been…we're not…."  
  
"Stay here, Matthew," Jim said gently. "We know the way. Perhaps, while we're in…you and Martha could put together a list of everyone who was working late last night? And let them know we'll want to talk with them?"  
  
"Oh, of course, we can do that." He actually looked relieved to have something to do.  
  
Jim nodded as he and Blair moved toward Judge Keeler's chambers.  
  
Once inside, the first thing they did was to look for her briefcase - they didn't find it.  
  
"Odd," Blair noted.  
  
"Not necessarily, it could be locked away. We're going to need Martha sooner than planned. I was also hoping to find an appointment book of some kind."  
  
"I'll get her." Blair moved to one of two side doors. He opened it and wasn't surprised to find the CSO at her desk, dabbing at her eyes. "Martha, could we impose on you? We need your help in here."  
  
She immediately nodded, rolled up the tissue, dropped it in the trash receptacle and got to her feet. Squaring her shoulders, she walked past Blair and into the office.  
  
"What can I do for you, detectives?"  
  
"Where did Judge Keeler normally keep her briefcase?" Jim asked, his voice deliberately firm and businesslike.  
  
"Oh, uhm, in the bottom drawer of her desk, the large one on the left. But it's locked - let me get the key." She hurried back out and returned a moment later with a spare set, which she handed to Jim via the desk key .  
  
He took it, inserted it in the bottom drawer, turned and pulled.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
He looked up and exchanged knowing looks with Blair before turning the lock back and, this time, successfully opening the drawer - which was empty.  
  
"Martha," Blair asked as he placed a hand gently on her arm, "did Judge Keeler ever forget to lock her desk?"  
  
"No, not once in all the years I've been her CSO. Matthew will tell you the same thing. It was like breathing to her. That's why I have the only other spare set. Sometimes, she'd need something from the office and, if I was still here, she'd call me."  
  
"Not her court clerk? Not Matthew?" Jim asked.  
  
"As you know, Judge Keeler lives - lived - in Riverside, whereas I live just ten minutes away, in the Palmer Apartment Complex. Matthew lives on Terry Island, so yes, those few times when she needed something quickly, or needed something looked up, I was the logical person to call if a trip had to be made back here."  
  
"I notice there's no appointment book, would that have been in her briefcase?" Jim asked.  
  
"No. I kept all her appointments online and at the end of the day, I'd download any changes to her home computer and she'd download to her palm pilot, which she kept in her purse." Martha nodded at the computer sitting to the left of the desk. "Would you like me to bring it up?"  
  
"Please."  
  
She walked over, sat down, and booted up. A few moments later, she said, "Here it is."  
  
As she vacated the chair, Jim shot Blair a look and, with rolling eyes, Blair walked over and sat down in front of the monitor.  
  
Jim guided Martha over to the couch and, after getting her settled, said, "We haven't been able to locate her briefcase. It wasn't in the car, or with the Judge and it's not in the drawer. Did she have it when she arrived at work yesterday?"  
  
"Yes, of course. She was never without. I don't understand why anyone would want it, although, it's a Dolce-Gabbana bag, as was her purse - perhaps, I mean, it was very expensive…."  
  
Her voice trailed off as she put two and two together. "But her purse, it wasn't taken, was it? Or her jewelry? Her wedding rings?"  
  
"No, Martha, to our knowledge, nothing seems to be missing other than her briefcase." He glanced over at the bag with the purse and thought of the palm pilot. Grateful for the extra gloves he'd brought along, he pulled the bagged purse toward him, put on another pair, and opened the bag. It only took a moment to spot the palm pilot. He took it out and showed it to Martha. "This was Judge Keeler's?"  
  
Nodding, Martha said, "Yes, that's it."  
  
"Did she use it to jot down notes on cases, that kind of thing?"  
  
Smiling, Martha said, "She wasn't really into it. I think the most she did was keep telephone numbers, her calendar, and a couple of games."  
  
He put the palm pilot back, figuring Blair could check it out later to ensure that it matched whatever was on her work computer.  
  
"Martha, I need you to help us by recreating her day. Do you think you can do that?"  
  
Nodding, she said, "You're aware of the current trial?"  
  
"Yes, the Schmidt case."  
  
"Right. Well, as you know, there's been a great deal of press, nary a minute to herself as a result. Yesterday, she arrived at seven, needed to rule on a couple of motions prior to the continuation of the trial. She met with the lawyers at seven-thirty, finishing at approximately eight-thirty. Matthew, knowing she'd need something before nine, when the trial was set to resume, had a blueberry muffin and a latte, from the coffee cart downstairs, ready for her. She managed to finish both before having to enter the courtroom. We broke for lunch at noon, she ate here, in her office, took a few phone calls, including one from Mayor Collins--"  
  
"Were all the calls business?" Blair interrupted from his spot at the desk.  
  
"I believe so, although I know she tried to reach her husband, but he was apparently in a meeting. At one, she went back into the courtroom and didn't adjourn until five. There were quite a few forensic experts called, so the day went long."  
  
"It says here that she had an appointment at seven-thirty last night, but there's no name, just the word 'meeting'," Blair said.  
  
Frowning, Martha shook her head. "I wasn't aware of anything other than one with Judge Collier, he's the presiding judge, at six-thirty, in his chambers. She was already there when I left at six-thirty. I downloaded yesterday's appointments at…let me see, it must have been around twelve-thirty on Friday, with no updates done yesterday. There was nothing after Judge Collier."  
  
"You always load so early in the day?" Blair asked.  
  
"Yes, that was normal. Technically, we'd do her appointments at the beginning of the month, planned around trials, pre-trials, etc. that kind of activity, plus her charity work. Then all I really had to do was add or delete as things changed."  
  
Blair turned in the Judge's chair and asked, "Why you, Martha? Again, wouldn't that be something more in line with Matthew's job?"  
  
"Normally, yes, but as you know, I moved up from her clerk to her CSO and one of the things we both preferred that I continue doing were her appointments - they went hand in hand with her judicial calendar. It's not, surprisingly enough, all that unusual. I'd say half the judges use their CSO in the same manner."  
  
"Why was she meeting with Collier," Jim asked.  
  
For the first time, Martha looked truly uncomfortable. Her gaze shifted downward as she clasped her hands tightly together. Jim cocked his head, catching her suddenly racing heart, but it was Blair who spoke up.  
  
"It's not a secret that Collier wasn't a fan of Judge Keeler's, Martha."  
  
Her head shot up, green eyes full of anger. "It was more than just not being a fan. He hated her, was jealous. And he'd started a brown file on her! The man's a complete fool, everyone knows that, and if you ask me, he made a huge mistake when he started to have her courtroom monitored."  
  
Stricken by what she'd just said, she suddenly clamped her hand over her mouth.  
  
"It's all right, Martha. Your anger's justified and you're simply telling us what we need to know," Blair assured her gently.  
  
"But I should never have…even if it was the truth."  
  
"That's all right," Jim said as he patted her on the shoulder. "Now, did anything happen out of the ordinary yesterday? Did Judge Keeler seem worried or upset?"  
  
"Yesterday was…pretty typical. But now that you mention it…she's…she'd…been a bit…off…the last couple of weeks, forgetful, even. Not of anything vital and it wasn't affecting her work, but the small things, personal things. For instance, she forgot Cherry's birthday last week and she never forgets that kind of detail."  
  
"Cherry?"  
  
"Oh, sorry, Detective Ellison. Cherry is Judge Mueller's CSO and sometimes filled in for me when I was out ill, or last year when I was out on pregnancy leave. Judge Keeler never…she never forgot things like birthdays or anniversaries, that kind of thing. She's…she was...."  
  
Martha's voice broke then and she covered her face with her hands. Giving her time, Jim simply waited. Eventually she lifted her head and said, "I'm sorry…this is just too…you knew her, you know that no one would want to hurt her. She was wonderful."  
  
There was nothing he could say to that so Jim decided to get back to business. "How were things with her husband, their marriage? And yes, that sounds like prying, but you understand why we need to ask these things, you've been involved with the law and justice for a long time. You know what we need in order to find out who did this to her."  
  
Nodding, Martha said, "Things were fine. There seemed to be no trouble there, although, he's had to cancel attending several events with her in the last few weeks. He always tried hard to attend every function, to be by her side. He truly supported her career. But lately…why, just last Thursday, he was supposed to meet her here and they were going to the Mayor's banquet together, but he called around three to tell her he wasn't going to make it."  
  
"How did she take the news?"  
  
"She was upset, but understood. His business is just now taking off, you know. It's required a lot of his time of late. But they still talked on the phone and he managed a couple of lunches with her, here in chambers."  
  
"Had she been having any problems with lawyers, received any threats from dissatisfied customers, so to speak?" Jim asked gently.  
  
"No, absolutely not. The only person she's had any difficulties with is Judge Collier."  
  
Blair had shut down the computer, after satisfying himself that there was nothing else unusual in her appointment schedules, and got to his feet. He walked over to the couch and, perching on the arm, asked, "You didn't talk with Judge Keeler after you left? You have no idea how the meeting with Collier went?"  
  
She shook her head. "No, and I admit to wanting to know - it was the first thing I was going…I was going to ask…her."  
  
Blair nodded understandingly and then said, "Just one more thing, Martha, and then we'll let you go. Didn't Judge Keeler have an assigned parking space on level five?"  
  
"Of course, right by the elevator." Looking questioningly between the two men, she said, "But surely you know that. They said she was found…that it must have happened last…and she was found by her--"  
  
"I was just double checking, nothing to worry about. All the CSO's have assigned parking as well, don't they?"  
  
She nodded, clearly puzzled by Blair's questions. "Yes, we're on level six."  
  
"And the court clerks, also on six, I believe?"  
  
"Yes. All employees are on six, seven and eight, with either blue or green passes. The judges are on five with red passes."  
  
"Of course."  
  
Jim got up and helped Martha to her feet. "Thank you, you've been a great help. If we have any more questions--"  
  
"Please, just ask. And if I think of anything else--"  
  
Smiling, Jim said, "Just call us. I think you have my card."  
  
She smiled in return, a weak, only half-there smile, but it was real. "I do. I'm so very glad you're on this, you and Detective Sandburg. There's no one I…we…trust more to find out who did this."  
  
With that, she walked out, closing the door softly behind her.  
  
"Good catch on the parking, Chief. I never gave it a thought. We're going to have to go back down and check out the car."  
  
"Why don't I start the interviews while you--"  
  
"You got it. Catch up with you in a few."  
  
Blair nodded and, while Jim exited through Martha's office, Blair poked his head out the main door to get Matthew's attention.  
  
***  
  
Jim got the baggie with the keys out of his pocket and walked over to the car. He unlocked the driver's door and found it exactly as Blair had described.  
  
Pristine. Too pristine.  
  
He could smell the cleaning agent that had been used to wipe it down and the leather cleaner used on the seats; the front seats only. The back hadn't been touched at all, which confirmed the fact that the cleaning hadn't been the result of a car wash. Not that he needed that kind of confirmation. Hell, even without his sentinel abilities, the exterior had the kind of city grime that told him the car hadn't been washed in at least two weeks.  
  
He was just about to pull out when he noticed the driver's seat itself. Keeler had been a short woman, maybe five-two. And yet…the seat was all the way back.  
  
No way on earth, even in the heels she'd been wearing, could she have safely driven this car with the seat in its current position. No way. He reached back inside and pressed the cd button. Nothing happened. No cd. He checked the glove compartment, found nothing but a road map booklet, the owner's manual and the registration in a nice, neat plastic card holder. He opened the center console and found a pair of ladies sunglasses, period.  
  
In all his years, he'd never seen a car this…clean, tidy. Not even his own.  
  
He straightened and waved one of the SI techs over. "I need the interior gone over with every fine-toothed comb we've got."  
  
"Will do, Detective."  
  
"I'll want the report as soon as possible."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
He turned away and headed back inside.  
  
  
***  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Harris. If you think of anything else, here's my card."  
  
The clerk nodded, took the offered item, and left. Blair reached for the bottled water that Martha had so kindly provided and took a much needed swig. He was just putting the cap back on when Jim walked in and took the seat next to him. Offering him the water, Blair asked, "Well?"  
  
"The driver's seat was all the way back. No way could she have driven the car. I've got SI going through it now, but I'm betting they won't find anything. I could smell the cleaner he or she used to tidy up after themselves."  
  
"So, what, she was killed somewhere else, her body put into the car--"  
  
"Front seat. The back seat was untouched."  
  
"Front? That's one cocky killer."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You know, this raises a helluva lot of questions," Blair mused. "For instance, the killer and his or her transportation. Did Judge Keeler offer them a ride? Did they decide to get some coffee so used her vehicle? And if so, why park on level three? Why not use…wait, cameras. He or she *couldn't* take the car back up to level five - they'd have been recorded. So maybe the car never even left the garage and our killer only drove it long enough to park it after she drove down to his or her level to meet them, or she met them some place else and he drove her and the car back? But if they met some place else, the killer had to walk back to their car and if they could walk, why drive at all except he could have left his car here but damn, it was cold and Halloween. And yeah, we're both assuming the killer is a man, in spite of my conscious decision to be politically correct by continuing to say 'him or her', because really, we both know it was a guy. You saw her coat, her clothing, hell, even her hair. She wasn't mussed, no dirt or grime and a woman would have had to drag her and could never have carried her back to the car, let alone--"  
  
"Are you going to stop anytime soon? Because if not, I need to reshuffle some plans for this week, you know?"  
  
"Oh, you're just so funny - not."  
  
"At the risk of another stream of consciousness response, what do you have from the interviews so far?"  
  
"Exactly zip. Everyone knew about her meeting with Collier, no one knew about any other meeting. In fact, several mentioned that she was looking forward to getting home and giving out candy, which makes that seven-thirty appointment all the more mysterious. From everything said so far, Halloween was one of her favorites and she always made a concerted effort to get home early enough to be there when the trick-or-treaters started arriving and yes, I confirmed that with Martha."  
  
"Did you happen to find out why she wasn't missed at home? Why her body was found this morning and why a husband who loved her so much--"  
  
"He was in Philadelphia on business. I say 'was' because Judge Collier ordered Martha to call him and let him know what happened. By now, he's in the air. Of course, that information doesn't negate your question because if their marriage was so wonderful, so perfect, why wouldn't they have talked last night, especially since we know she tried to reach him earlier in the day. And I can't help but think that he'd have tried to call, kept trying, and when he couldn't reach her…wouldn't he have called someone to find out why he couldn't reach her? Isn't that what we would have done?"  
  
"You know, you never did this when you were an observer," Jim noted with a glimmer of humor lurking in his eyes. "Things were much quieter back then."  
  
"You know, I have the power to make things very quiet for you, if that's your desire, Detective."  
  
"No, no," Jim rushed to reassure as he tried not to laugh. "I didn't say quiet was *good*, I just said things were quieter."  
  
"Nice recovery."  
  
"You do realize the fact that Judge Collier gave her permission to tell him is, of itself, highly suspicious, right?"  
  
"I thought it was irregular, to say the least, what with husbands being numero uno on the suspect list when their wives are murdered," Blair said dryly. "A bit high-handed, if you ask me, but that's him all over."  
  
"Yeah, he knows damn well we'd want to gauge his reactions, cold-hearted bastards that we are."  
  
"I take it Collier just jumped to the top of our short list?"  
  
"He was already there, sharing top honors with Mr. Perfect Husband, speaking of whom - what time is Keeler scheduled to land, do you know? We need to be there."  
  
"He's coming in on…wait a minute, I have it written down…here it is," Blair said as he plucked a page of one of his notes from the table. "Flight 343, United, scheduled arrival time of seven-twelve."  
  
"Guess we'll be at the airport at seven-twelve."

*****

They finished off the rest of the interviews, gleaning nothing new, no additional insights into Judge Keeler's last hours. Of course, they still had one person left to talk with, namely Judge Collier and it was after two by the time they made their way to his chambers. Jim was expecting resistance and he wasn't disappointed.  
  
"Detective Ellison, I'm afraid Judge Collier isn't available just yet. He'd like a number where you can be reached--"  
  
"Stevenson, isn't it?" Jim asked with a disarming smile.  
  
"Yes, Nathanial Stevenson. I'm Judge Collier's--"  
  
"Is he in his chambers?"  
  
"Yes, but as I said--"  
  
"Thank you. We'll take it from here." With that, Jim walked past the desk and into the office beyond.  
  
"Judge Collier, thank you for seeing us. I know how busy your day must be, but with one of your people dead, we can certainly understand your eagerness to help us any way you can."  
  
Wilbur Collier was on the phone and, the moment Jim and Blair walked in, he stopped speaking. Now, face flushed with what Jim guessed was anger mixed with embarrassment, the man said, "I'll call you back…yes, thank you."  
  
He put the phone down, rose to his feet and, struggling to regain his composure, said, "Detectives, please, have a seat."  
  
"Sir, I'm so sorry--"  
  
Collier waved his hand at Stevenson, who'd rushed in behind Jim and Blair. "It's all right, Nathanial. Close the door, please, and make *sure* we're not interrupted."  
  
"Yes, of course."  
  
Stevenson pulled the door shut as he backed out of the office and, hiding his smirk, Jim took one of the two chairs in front of Collier's desk. In a well-practiced maneuver, Blair remained standing, notebook in hand, pen ready.  
  
"We understand that you might have been the last person to see Judge Keeler alive," Jim said almost conversationally.  
  
Leaning back and allowing himself a small smile, Collier said, "You mean other than the man who killed her, I assume?"  
  
Jim simply shrugged as he asked, "You met with her at six-thirty, is that correct?"  
  
"Yes, although we didn't begin immediately. I was on the phone and asked Nathanial to get her a coffee while she waited just outside. It was probably closer to six forty-five before we got started. He brought her in, I asked him to put the phones on call forward and to go home, and then started the meeting."  
  
"And the purpose of the meeting?"  
  
"I doubt sincerely that the contents are germane to your investigation, Detective."  
  
"Why don't you let us decide what is and isn't 'germane'. Now, what was the purpose of the meeting?" Jim asked, his voice outlined in granite.  
  
"As Presiding Judge, it fell to me to outline several concerns regarding her performance. Judge Keeler was coming very close to a judicial review."  
  
"Based on?" Blair asked, his pen poised above the notebook.  
  
"Now that I find hard to believe would have any bearing--"  
  
Jim sliced through the Judge's words. "Again, that's up to us to decide. Answer the question."  
  
"Do you understand who I am, Detective? With one phone call --"  
  
"I invite you to try having us removed from this case but as long as we're still in charge of the investigation, I suggest you answer the questions. Of course, we could go downtown - conduct the interview under more…structured... circumstances."  
  
"We are - were - unhappy with some of her rulings," Collier finally offered grudgingly.  
  
"I would imagine that's a daily occurrence for you, as Presiding Judge," Blair said, his voice calming.  
  
"Naturally I don't agree with all my judges, but when rulings appear to be motivated by special interests, as in the case with Judge Keeler, I step in."  
  
"Now I find that very interesting, Judge Collier," Jim said, a small smile playing over his lips. "You've just accused Judge Keeler of allowing a special interest group of influencing her and yet, surprisingly enough, you didn't think that could be germane to a murder investigation?"  
  
"I… Obviously I wasn't thinking clearly. This has been a difficult day for all of us, Detective. As I'm sure you can understand."  
  
"When did the meeting end?"  
  
"It was a bit after seven."  
  
"A fifteen minute meeting with a judge you suspect of being influenced in her rulings?" Blair asked from his position behind Jim.  
  
"She naturally denied it and I simply told her that the investigation would become official--"  
  
"You were already monitoring her proceedings, that seems pretty official to me," Jim cut in. "Or perhaps, the monitoring wasn't done with her 'official' knowledge?"  
  
"I don't know where you get your information, Detective--"  
  
"So I'm wrong? You weren't already sitting in on some of her cases?"  
  
"I--"  
  
"And before you answer - allow me to remind you that it's very easy to check," Jim finished. Suddenly Jim got to his feet, giving Collier no chance to answer. "Perhaps it would be easier if you simply gave us…what's it called again, Chief?"  
  
"A brown file."  
  
"Ah, yes. Why don't you give us a copy of the 'brown file' on Judge Keeler."  
  
"That's not possible--"  
  
"You may be the Presiding Judge, but we both know I can get a warrant - easily. Judge Keeler was loved and respected by many and they won't hesitate to do whatever's necessary to help catch her killer."  
  
"I'll have the file for you by the end of the--"  
  
"Now, Judge Collier, it's called a file for a reason - I'm sure you can hand it to Mr. Stevenson and he can have it copied in seconds," Blair said reasonably.  
  
His expression hardening, Collier nevertheless picked up the phone, pushed the white button and said, "Nathanial, would you come in here, please?"  
  
A moment later, Collier had pulled a manila folder from his desk drawer and, when Nathanial walked over to his desk, said, "Make one copy and give it to Detective Ellison."  
  
"Of course, Judge."  
  
"Thank you for your cooperation, Judge Collier. We appreciate it," Jim said, his most charming smile back in place. "Oh, by the way, did Judge Keeler mention where she was going when she left here?"  
  
"It didn't come up."  
  
"Did she have her coat, gloves and purse with her?"  
  
"I believe so, yes. She removed her coat and laid it out on the couch, along with her purse.  
  
"So she had her briefcase as well, then," Jim stated as if it weren't a question - which it most certainly was - and Collier didn't disappoint.  
  
"Of course. The briefcase always stayed with her." Collier actually managed a rather indulgent, almost fond smile.  
  
"She didn't leave it here, by any chance, did she?"  
  
Clearly flustered at the very idea, Collier said, "Excuse me? Leave…no, of course not…she had it slung over her arm as she walked out."  
  
"Ah, I see. Thank you." Jim turned to Blair and said, "Unless you can think of anything else, Chief, we can let the judge get back to his day."  
  
"No, not really." He started to put his notebook away, but then said in what Jim recognized as his best Colombo imitation, "Oh, wait, there is one more thing. I assume that even though Judge Keeler is dead, you're going to continue the investigation? I mean, obviously if certain rulings or judgments weren't on the up-and-up, you'd still have to take action, overturn some of the rulings, etc., right?"  
  
"I…yes…I mean…I hope it doesn't come to that. Sullying the good name of Judge Keeler is not…would not be… That would not be in the best interest of our judicial system, Detective."  
  
"I see. Well, Jim, that's all I have."  
  
"Then thank you again for your time, Judge Collier, and if we have any other questions, we'll be in touch." With that, Jim, hand firm on Blair's back, guided them both out of the man's office.  
  
***  
  
"What did you think?" Blair asked once they had the copied 'brown file' and were back in the anteroom off Judge Keeler's courtroom.  
  
"He lied about the investigation, but I don't know why. I got the distinct impression that he's hiding something. The weird thing was the fact that he was honestly puzzled by the briefcase question. Based on that alone - he's moving down on our list of suspects."  
  
"Nice job of getting the info out of him, though. I swear, you're getting so smooth, Jim." Blair patted him on the back. "You're going to make one hell of a cop one of these days."  
  
"Thanks. Your praise means so much to me."  
  
"Yes, I know, that's why I try to find ways - even when they're not there - to provide you with as much as I can."  
  
"Dork."  
  
"Now, if only the word 'dork' had actually been derived from a scientific term for a whale's penis. Then I'd be flattered, although, in reality, a whale's penis is quite small by comparison. But still, it would be the thought that counted. As it is, I'll assume you're simply calling me a 'dick', and since I do, indeed, have one, as you discovered last night, as with so many other nights, I'll still take that as a compliment."  
  
"Sandburg, my ears are bleeding."  
  
"Yeah, yeah."  
  
***  
  
It was almost four by the time they'd finished at the courthouse. They'd talked to the parking lot attendants, had all the security tapes, and were now on their way to the station to make their report to Simon and do a bit of follow-up before meeting Robert Keeler's plane.  
  
"Any ideas percolating in that sharp detective brain of yours?" Blair suddenly asked.  
  
"Not a single one. Until we look at the tapes and the file from Collier, and talk to the husband, I'm reserving all thoughts and suspicions."  
  
Jim pulled into the garage, parked, and they headed upstairs. The first thing they noticed upon entering Major Crime was the absence of Simon, the closed blinds being their first clue and Jim's hearing, their second. Since that meant their report would have to wait, they contented themselves with passing off the tapes to Rafe, Brown, Joel and Megan and then taking some of the evidence upstairs to Serena's lab so that she could check for fingerprints. Once there, and with gloved hands, Jim went through the purse while Serena observed. Meanwhile, Blair checked the palm pilot. When he finished with it, he handed it over to the forensics expert and they headed back downstairs. Once at their desks, Blair said, "Jim, that seven-thirty appointment wasn't in the palm pilot."  
  
"You're kidding?"  
  
Blair shook his head. "The one with Collier was, but nothing else."  
  
"All right…that would fall in line with what Martha said about Judge Keeler using it only for a few things. If this mysterious appointment came along later--"  
  
"What, it popped up between the time she left her office for Collier's and reached it? I don't think so. Plus we know that she didn't make the changes to her appointments, Martha did, from her own computer. At the end of the day, Keeler then hooked up her palm and downloaded any changes. If she scheduled a meeting herself, one that she didn't tell Martha about, she wouldn't have put it *anywhere*, Jim."  
  
Jim looked with real interest at his partner. "If I pick up on what you're *not* saying, Keeler didn't put the appointment in her computer at all, right?"  
  
"That's what I'm thinking. Our killer put it in there to throw us off, the damn proverbial red herring, man. We spend valuable time looking for this mysterious person she was supposed to meet and skip over everything else."  
  
"Good theory, but unless I'm mistaken, her computer, just like ours, was password coded, right?"  
  
"True. Martha had it, obviously, but that doesn't mean she's the only one."  
  
"So now we're saying the killer was in Judge Keeler's office - before or after the murder, which wouldn't have been a problem, they had her keys…but we know from Security that no one visited Judge Keeler, we know her movements up to her meeting with Collier and we know, based on his words - and yes, he was telling the truth - that she arrived with every intention of leaving for home when they were done. She had her coat, gloves, purse and briefcase. So we can assume the killer wasn't already there--"  
  
"Why assume that? Why couldn't she have walked out, even headed downstairs, and then met up with the killer, that he's someone who works in the building, and they go back upstairs--"  
  
"Why?" Jim asked.  
  
"Why what?"  
  
"Why go back upstairs?"  
  
"Well, how 'bout to speak privately?" At Jim's 'you're so wrong' look, Blair backtracked. "Okay, the fact that the car was moved - the tapes will tell us the who and when - argues that she met this person elsewhere, which is fine, because the truth is, our killer didn't have to be in her office at all. If he had her logon and password, he could have accessed her calendar from any computer."  
  
"But who's likely to have that besides, maybe, her husband?"  
  
"We could call Martha and ask. She said she was staying until six, in spite of being ordered by Judge Collier to take the rest of the day off."  
  
Jim simply looked expectantly at the phone and, with a roll of his eyes, Blair dialed.  
  
"Martha? Yes, this is Detective Sandburg. We have another question for you - did anyone other than yourself and Judge Keeler have her logon and password for the computer? Oh? Yes, all right…you're sure? All right, thank you again. Could you pass me on to Matthew? Yes, thank you. Oh, and Martha, Judge Collier was right, you should go home…good girl. And thank you again for all your help today, we'll keep you posted." Blair handed the phone to Jim quickly and said, "You need to ask him and gauge his truthfulness."  
  
"Right." Jim took it and a moment later said, "Matthew? Yes, we need to know if you've ever given Judge Keeler's password and logon to anyone else - ever…are you sure? Now think, Matthew. Perhaps another CSO taking Martha's…you're absolutely positive? Matthew, this could be very important…all right. Thank you. Yes, of course we will."  
  
He handed the phone back and said, "He's never told anyone else and it rang true. He wasn't lying. So hubby moves straight past Collier--"  
  
"Except for the small detail of not being here to have actually done the deed," Blair interjected. "Not that he couldn't have hired someone. But in all honesty, I know our system, Jim, and anyone with even medium hacking skills could have made it past all the bells and whistles."  
  
"You mean sort of like you used to do before you became official?"  
  
"Yeah, like that, and before I added several nice layers of security since becoming official. So while we can't let the husband off the hook, it does give us another alley to cover."  
  
Jim glanced at his watch and added, "We've got an hour before we need to meet him - why don't you see what you can dig up on his finances and the new business. I'll call Jake and then check into wills and insurance."  
  
"Sounds like a plan. But first - did you find the parking pass in her purse?"  
  
Jim closed his eyes for a moment, allowing his mind to review…and finally shook his head. "No pass and nothing hanging from the rearview mirror." He reached for the phone and punched in the two digit number for the morgue.  
  
"Dan Wolfe, please, Detective Ellison." He waited patiently and a few seconds later, Dan's voice came on.  
  
*"I'm working on her, Jim. I'll let you know--"*  
  
"I know, that's not why I'm calling. I need to know what you found - if anything - in her coat pocket? Or any pockets?"  
  
*"Hang on…."*  
  
Jim could hear him asking for the evidence bag, could hear the footsteps, even the crackling of the bag as it was passed to Dan….  
  
*"All right, in her pants pockets - a tube of lip gloss and a handkerchief. Coat pockets, one handi-wipe packet. That's it, Jim."*  
  
"So no parking pass," Jim said more to himself than to Dan.  
  
*"Sorry, no. Anything else you need or can I get back to work here?"*  
  
"Nothing else - thanks, Dan." Jim hung up and, with hand still resting on the phone, said, "You heard. No pass."  
  
"This makes no sense, Jim. Hell, even if she'd left the pass at home…you and I both know the guards would have let her in."  
  
"So maybe the pass has no bearing on anything."  
  
"I guess not. The absence of it doesn't really help firm up the reason for the car being on level 3 since we'd already assumed the killer was avoiding the security cameras. Sure would have been nice if the city had coughed up enough money last year for cameras on all levels."  
  
"Money makes the world go 'round, Chief."  
  
"And politics. By the way? I'm so glad you're the one calling Jake. I'm not in the mood for a lecture."  
  
"So you want me to put it on speaker phone, then?"  
  
  
  
  
"If you wouldn't mind," Blair answered with a grin.  
  
***  
  
It only took a minute of Jake's whining before Jim took the phone off speaker, and just in time, since Jake's voice was rising in the kind of way that would heap suspicions of child abuse upon their heads.  
  
*"…but popppppeeeeee, it's your day off! you're not supposed to work on the day you're not supposed to work. it's a ruuuuuule."*  
  
"Yes, well, I'm afraid it's a rule your Uncle Simon and the City of Cascade don't exactly follow, son. But we'll be home as soon as possible, all right?"  
  
*"how soon is possible?"*  
  
Jim covered the bottom part of the phone to whisper, "Damn, he's stubborn."  
  
Blair shrugged. "Like father, like son," he said cryptically.  
  
Flipping Blair off, Jim said into the phone, "I'm afraid that we probably won't make it home before you go to bed, Hoss. But we'll try."  
  
Jim could see his son's face as clearly as if he were in the room with him. He just knew Jake's mouth had just dropped open and his blue eyes were wide with shock. In a minute, the stammer would start….  
  
*"but-but-but…poppeeeeeeee, it's your day off!"*  
  
"It was our day off, but now it isn't. But you have your Nomi and we'll be there as soon as we can, all right?"  
  
*"not fair. my gampa carl couldn't see me in my halloweeny costume, and we didn't get our brunch together today, and now no cuddles or story tonight! i'm going on strike."*  
  
This time it was Jim's turn for jaw dropping and eye popping. He gave a frustrated shake of his head and finally said, "You've been talking to your Nomi, haven't you?"  
  
*"i always talk to my nomi - how else could we talk?"*  
  
Reasonable response, Jim had to admit.  
  
"Son, how 'bout this: when we get home, we'll wake you if you're in bed and Daddy will read a chapter and we'll all cuddle for a few minutes. Is that a deal?"  
  
*"promuse?"*  
  
"Promise."  
  
He could almost see Jake tapping his chin thoughtfully - he could also hear it.  
  
*"'kay. but i might still go on strike, jest so you know."*  
  
"Thanks for the warning, Hoss. Be good, give Goody a kiss for both of us and we'll see you when we see you."  
  
*"'kay. just hurry the seeing part."*  
  
"Bye, Jake."  
  
*"bye, poppy!"*  
  
It wasn't the happiest goodbye, but at least a deal had been struck. Jim replaced the receiver and turned to his partner with a scowl. "Your mother has been preaching to our son, Chief."  
  
"Preaching? Just what could she possibly preach about that would put that look on your face?"  
  
"You can *ask* that about *your* mother?"  
  
"Jim, come on, what, you're afraid she tried to instill the belief in peace, brotherhood and flower power in our son?"  
  
"Sandburg, he's threatening to go on *strike*."  
  
With a mildly bemused expression on his face, Blair said, "Really?"  
  
"Yes, really. Our son - on strike."  
  
Jim watched as Blair worked his lips in that way - the way that tended to drive him insane because, after all, they were rather gorgeous lips - because he was puckering and un-puckering them in an attempt to keep from laughing, to keep his humor in check in deference to Jim's feelings, but Jim knew it wouldn't last….  
  
"I can…can't you just…and he'd be marching back and forth across the driveway with a little makeshift placard in his hands and Goody would be following him, tail wagging…."  
  
"You shit," Jim said even as his own laughter burst forth.  
  
***  
  
"Jim, I think I've got something," Blair said fifteen minutes before they needed to leave for the airport.  
  
"Glad to hear it, because so far, I've got bupkes. The only thing I could get out of John Patterson, the Keeler family lawyer, is that most of her estate will go to various charities. We have no motive with life insurance either because the only policy is on *Robert* Keeler. He had nothing to gain, monetarily anyway, by her death."  
  
"Yeah, well, that might not be totally accurate."  
  
"Meaning?"  
  
Blair swiveled around in his chair until he was facing his partner. "Robert Keeler may be an expert in antiques, but he couldn't run a business to save his life. His new store, Aging Beautifully, is spiraling down the toilet and he's close to bankruptcy. And while that alone doesn't make him a suspect, the fact that Judge Keeler was a silent partner - just might."  
  
Jim rubbed his chin thoughtfully and nodded. "Yeah, you're right. I need to talk to Patterson again because he never mentioned a word, and he knew exactly where I was going with my questions, had to be expecting them." After checking the time and deciding there was just enough to make a repeat call to Patterson, he reached for the phone.  
  
***  
  
"So he didn't know," Blair mused.  
  
Jim shook his head. "Nope. He was very surprised because he's always been close to the Keeler family and, while it was clear that he understood the reasons behind Robert Keeler *not* using Patterson's firm, he was shocked at the idea that Judge Keeler hadn't told him, or even asked for his advice. And yes, he agreed that such an 'arrangement' - to use his word - could change how her estate will be handled. He's going to talk with Robert Keeler's lawyers - what was the name of the firm again?"  
  
"Emerson, Riley and Cooper."  
  
"Yeah, them. He's going to do some research - try to find out more about the partnership, which will save us time and, hopefully, a warrant."  
  
"The information wasn't exactly hidden, Jim. Sure, it took some digging, but nothing that the average guy on the street couldn't have discovered. I don't think Robert Keeler's legal representatives will hold anything back."  
  
"Maybe, maybe not. They're lawyers."  
  
"Point taken."  
  
Jim swung up the ramp leading to 'arriving flights' of the Cascade airport and headed for United. It was times like these when it paid to be a cop. He pulled in around the island that separated thru-traffic traffic from the 'loading' traffic and parked a few feet away from a security vehicle. Blair put their CPD placard on the dashboard just as the airport security officer got out of his car. Seeing it, he waved his okay and got back into his seat.  
  
Jim and Blair got out and hurried into the building. It was nine minutes after seven.  
  
***  
  
Jim watched the United employee open the door to the gate and, a few moments later, passengers began to make their way off the plane and down the long tube toward them.  
He zeroed in on them, figuring that Robert Keeler would be one of the first to exit, thanks to flying first class. When he didn't see him right away, he cocked his head and concentrated on voices, certain that he'd recognize the man's even though he'd only met him a couple of times.  
  
*"Wait until at least half of Coach has exited and then deplane."  
  
"Why, Robbie? There's no one to meet you, no one will pay us the slightest mind."  
  
"I can't believe you just said that, Sheila. And as for no one noticing, trust me, my wife's murder has been all over the news as have photos that included me - I could easily be recognized. Just do what I ask, all right?"  
  
"Fine, fine. I suppose I'm not to call for a few days?"  
  
"I'll call you - when things have quieted down."*  
  
Jim nudged his partner and said, "Chief, when Keeler comes through that door, I need you to take the lead, all right?"  
  
"You heard something?"  
  
"Oh, yeah…and here he comes."  
  
A few moments later, Robert Keeler, a worn and tired-looking Robert Keeler, walked through the door and into the airport. Blair stepped forward, badge out while Jim held back.  
  
"Mr. Keeler, I'm Detective Sandburg, Cascade Police Department."  
  
Judge Keeler's husband looked around them, almost furtively, before saying in a low, controlled voice, "If you're here to tell me about my wife, I've been informed."  
  
"We understand that, sir. Do you mind if we step over here and out of the way?"  
  
Keeler had no choice but to follow Blair as he led them both to a set of seats against the window overlooking the tarmac. It was quiet and they were about as alone as it was possible to be in a bustling airport.  
  
"If you knew I was aware, why are you here? Naturally I know you'll want to speak with me, and yes, I know the husband is usually at the top of your suspect list, Detective, but surely it could have waited until I'd arrived home?"  
  
Blair didn't miss the way Keeler had made the word 'Detective' sound like some kind of crap you found on the bottom of your shoe, but he ignored it just as he ignored the question by asking his own. "When was the last time you spoke with your wife, Mr. Keeler?"  
  
***  
  
Jim watched the passengers file out, eyes scanning each one, looking for a woman alone…he spotted a blonde; tall, willowy, and not a day over twenty-five. She was definitely alone and, as she stepped through the door, her gaze flicked first left, then right and, when she spotted Keeler, her heartbeat increased.  
  
She was the one.  
  
He followed her to the escalator but stopped her just before she got on. "Miss, I'm Detective Ellison, Cascade Police Department. May I have a few minutes of your time?"  
  
She glanced down at the badge and ID then up to his face. Small beads of perspiration appeared on her upper lip even as she said, "Excuse me? Why would the--"  
  
"I believe you're acquainted with Robert Keeler?"  
  
"Oh, shit."  
  
***  
  
Bluffing was something both Jim and Blair had learned to do when hiding the fact that Jim's senses were responsible for obtaining information, and Jim had done a brilliant job of it at the airport. Of course, once he'd led the young woman to where Blair was still questioning Keeler, she'd done the rest of his work for him. Even as Keeler's eyes had widened in shock, and before he could say a word, she'd said it all.  
  
"He knows, Robbie. He knows."  
  
Now, forty minutes later, in one of the conference rooms (as opposed to one of the interrogation rooms), he sat with Robert Keeler, the man's lawyer on the way, while, in an adjoining room, Blair was questioning his paramour, Sheila.  
  
"So how did you figure it out?" Keeler asked.  
  
Time to play like a politician and answer a question without answering it, Jim thought. He smiled. "We're cops, Mr. Keeler. Finding out about people is our business, so you shouldn't be that surprised that we discovered your…friend."  
  
"You don't understand--"  
  
"Now there's a line I've never heard from a man cheating on his wife," Jim said dryly.  
  
Giving out with an impatient sigh, Keeler said, "Fine, fine. So no bullshitting the big, bad cop." He glanced over at Jim and added, "My lawyer will kill me for this, but why waste any more time?" He gripped his hands together - hard - and then said, "Yes, I was having an affair, and no, I didn't kill my wife, who, believe it or not, I did, in fact, love. And to answer your next question: No, she didn't know about Sheila. Never suspected, but then, it's only been a few weeks, and yes, this is the first time I've been unfaithful."  
  
"Well, that was very…forthcoming. And you're right, your lawyer will be angry. But as long as you're so talkative, perhaps you'd like to tell me about how Judge Keeler was a silent partner in your business?"  
  
Clearly taken aback, Keeler frowned before asking, "What does that have to do with her death?"  
  
"In all likelihood, it will change the nature of her estate."  
  
"Change the nature… wait… My God, you think I killed her for money?" Keeler jumped to his feet and began to pace angrily. Finally he stopped, faced Jim, and said, "I've got news for you, Detective, I don't inherit anything from her - except the house - and that was our agreement from the beginning."  
  
"Ah, but Mr. Keeler, your business is floundering and, as a partner in that business, Judge Keeler's money could be earmarked to protect her 'investment' in your firm. So yes, you'd profit."  
  
It was obvious to Jim's sentinel senses that Robert Keeler had never considered all the legalities of his wife's silent partnership, which meant their primary motive just tanked. And unless his senses were fooling him, Robert Keeler had told nothing but the truth since opening his mouth.  
  
At that moment, Keeler slumped back down into the chair and covered his face with his hands. He shook for several seconds before rallying and getting himself back under control. Lifting his head, his gaze seemed to fixate on the opposite wall as he said helplessly. "God, this is so fucked up. I'd give anything to not have gone, to have stayed home."  
  
"You couldn't have changed anything," Jim said far more gently than most of his fellow cops would have expected.  
  
"You don't know that. I might have met her at the courthouse, I just…you just never… God damn it."  
  
***  
  
"So Keeler isn't our killer?" Simon asked thirty minutes later after Jim let Robert Keeler and Sheila Adams leave.  
  
"I don't think so, Sir," Jim said. "And it was very clear that he'd never once thought about his wife's money in relationship to the business should she die. I still plan on following up with his lawyer, but only for the sake of appearances and a paper trail."  
  
"Yeah, you can hardly put in your report that your senses told you he was telling the truth and that he was truly shocked by that idea," Blair said unnecessarily. The dirty looks he received simply brought forth a humorous shrug.  
  
"So where to next, gentlemen?"  
  
"We still have to go through Collier's 'brown file' and I've asked Mr. Keeler to go through any work his wife might have had at home, including her computer. We're scheduled to meet with him again tomorrow morning."  
  
"How about the security tapes, Simon?" Blair asked.  
  
"They confirmed two things; that she was parked on Level 5 and that she exited the elevator at seven-fifteen, which matched Judge Collier's contention that she was out of his office a bit after seven and that she had her briefcase with her."  
  
"And you waited until now to tell us?" Blair asked incredulously.  
  
Jim poked him hard even as he rolled his eyes in exasperation.  
  
"It still amazes me that even a detective badge hasn't given him an appreciation for his boss," Simon said easily, his eyes on Jim. "Obviously the blame must lie with his partner, who has failed to instruct him in the proper respect due his superior."  
  
"What else did the tapes show?" Blair asked as if there'd been no discussion of him at all, which was how he tended to take conversations 'about' him when he was present.  
  
"Nothing. She went down the ramp at that point and left the range of the security cameras. There were no other individuals visible in the garage, no cars coming or going, which for that hour, wouldn't be all that unusual." Seeing Blair's disappointed expression, Simon sat back, smug look on his face. He took one of his ever-present cigars from his pocket and sniffed it appreciatively before saying, "Of course, Joel did some further investigating, went back to the garage and checked the automatic parking meter." Rolling the cigar between his fingers, he added, "As you both are undoubtedly aware, after hours, the passes are used as a key card to re-enter the garage. When you slip your pass into the slot, it's registered electronically."  
  
"Let me guess," Jim said. "Her card never registered back in."  
  
Simon shot forward in his seat. "How did you--"  
  
"Chalk it up to a cop's intuition. I think she was killed on level three and I don't think she ever left the garage."  
  
***  
  
Jim pulled the truck into the driveway and, when the garage door opened, drove inside. Next to him, Blair looked up, adjusted his glasses, and closed the folder.  
  
"Home, I see."  
  
"Yep, and Jake is sound asleep. Question is, should we wake him as promised?"  
  
They walked out onto the driveway and, as the door shut silently behind them, Blair said, "If we don't, he'll give us hell in the morning."  
  
"We could ask your mother to stay, and that way, we could get the heck out of Dodge before he wakes up."  
  
"Man, for a cop and a sentinel, you sure are a wuss."  
  
"No kidding."  
  
Laughing, they walked in through the back door and went straight through to the living room where Naomi sat curled up by the fire, an open book on her lap. She looked up and, in a manner eerily similar to her son's, took off her glasses.  
  
"Hey, fellas."  
  
"Hi, Mom," Blair said as he took off his jacket and muffler, handing both off to Jim who was holding out a waiting hand. Blair, folder still in hand, walked over and kissed her on the cheek. "Sorry about the late hour, and thanks for staying."  
  
Smiling, she said, "That's what grandmothers do, and with Jake, it's hardly difficult. I'm just sorry your vacation day was left in the dust."  
  
"We're going to try again next Monday if we can close this case by then."  
  
"It's a hard one, isn't it? I mean…hard on you and Jim."  
  
He nodded as he sat down in the chair opposite. "Yeah. Judge Keeler was special."  
  
Jim walked back in and took a seat on the couch. "How was the little prince?"  
  
Realizing the change of subject was deliberate, Naomi said, "He was fine. Missed you both terribly, but he was somewhat cheered by the fact that Carl will be back tomorrow and has promised to join you guys for dinner. He assumed that would be all right," she added with a knowing smile.  
  
"Gosh," Blair said, "that means if we run late again, we've got another babysitter."  
  
Laughing, Naomi said, "I have no doubt that he'd love it. He felt just miserable at missing Halloween with Jake."  
  
"Ah, the life of a jet-setting millionaire," Jim said.  
  
"He's not a--"  
  
"Yes, he is, dear," Naomi interrupted. "And the sooner you stop trying to deny it, the better." She nodded her head at the folder and asked, "Work?"  
  
He glanced down at it. "Yeah. I'm going to dig into it a little later."  
  
Naomi put the book on the side table and got to her feet. "Then I should be on my way home. And don't forget to wake Jake as promised. Oh, and your brunch is in the fridge, along with dessert, which Jake insisted I order for you."  
  
"Thanks, Mom," Blair said as Jim said, at the same time, "We probably shouldn't wake him."  
  
"Well, of course, that's up to you, but he was making strike placards earlier…."  
  
She let her voice trail off as she put her glasses away and picked up her bag.  
  
"Mom, you're incorrigible."  
  
Grinning, she said, "Yes, I am, and you're just like me."  
  
***  
  
"Jake, you awake?"  
  
Jake rolled over and gazed sleepily up at his daddy even as Goody uncurled herself from his side to bound over and give Blair a kiss. Jake smiled and held out his arms. Blair picked him up and sat down on the bed, Goody trying hard to find a place on his lap not already taken by his owner.  
  
"you 'membered to wake me."  
  
"We promised didn't we? But you're only up long enough for us to kiss you goodnight. It's very late."  
  
"i wanna story."  
  
"I know, but you have school tomorrow and your poppy and I--"  
  
"poppy, poppy, where's my poppy?" Jake sat up straight to look around only to relax back into Blair's arms as Jim came through the door.  
  
"Did I hear you call me, Master Jake?"  
  
"you weren't here, only daddy was here."  
  
Looking askance, Blair said, "Only daddy?"  
  
Giggling, Jake said, "i need both my daddy and my poppy!"  
  
"Well, you got 'em." Jim joined them and, for the next few minutes, Jake got his cuddles, kisses and hugs.  
  
"Okay," Blair finally said, "Time to get back into bed." He got to his feet and asked, "Dive bomber or Superman?"  
  
"dive bomber!"  
  
"Got it."  
  
Blair swung Jake high, passed him to Jim, who then swooped low, high, and finally let him go a couple of feet from the mattress.  
  
Bouncing delightedly, Jake caught Goody, who jumped back up and started to cover his face with kisses. Eventually, Blair and Jim got both boy and dog back under the covers and calmed down. With a final kiss, Blair said, "See you in the morning, Hoss."  
  
"night-night, daddy, night-night, poppy!"  
  
Jim kissed the tip of his nose, ran his fingers through the light curls and said, "Night, Son. See you in the morning."  
  
They moved to the door, turned off the light, and walked back out into the hall. Once back into the living room, Jim said, "Why don't I check out our food, warm it up, and you get the fire going again. Sound good?"  
  
"Yeah, sounds great."  
  
Blair watched Jim head for the kitchen and marveled how, even after a year, he could still be surprised by the fact that when they got home, when it was time to head off to bed, they'd go together - to the same room, same bed. And damn, did anyone look as good in jeans as his partner? And wasn't he always thinking that? Yes, when he wasn't thinking how great Jim looked out of them. Smiling, he got the fire built up again and then sat down and started to peruse the rest of the 'brown file'.  
  
***  
  
"Hey, food's ready. Want me to bring it in here and we can eat by the fire, or would you rather enjoy it in our 'nook'?"  
  
Blair glanced up, smiled, and said, "Normally, I'd say the by the fire, but there was the definite sound of 'choose the kitchen' in your voice."  
  
"There was not," Jim answered indignantly.  
  
"Right."  
  
Laughing, Blair got up and, folder in hand, followed Jim back to the kitchen. Once there, Blair's laughter rumbled out again. The table was set and the food laid out.  
  
"So I had my choice, did I?"  
  
"Yes," Jim said defensively. "I would have brought everything in." At the look of disbelief on Blair's face, he added, "Honest. I swear it."  
  
Blair just patted him on the cheek and sat down. As Jim slid in next to him, he tapped the folder and asked, "Find anything?"  
  
Cutting into his scramble, which even re-cooked, smelled out of this world, Blair said, "There was nothing to find." He nodded at it and added, "That's not an indictment of her rulings, it's a load of crap. There's nothing in there that could have hurt her, nothing he could have used, and certainly nothing pointing to favoritism."  
  
"Simply confirms the fact that Collier is an ass."  
  
"Yep. I wish Serena had been able to get us the tox results. Now that we know she never left the courthouse, one has to wonder, you know? And if she was drugged--"  
  
"Collier starts looking real good."  
  
"Yeah." He took a forkful of fruit and, just before putting it in his mouth, asked, "What did Jake choose for our desserts?"  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
"The chocolate banana cake?"  
  
"Yep. Two slices."  
  
"Oh, he's good. He knows damn well we'll share, which leaves the second piece for…."  
  
"…him," they said together.  
  
***  
  
The next morning, Jake was slurping his oatmeal and chattering to Goody when one of the cell phones rang. Blair, who was reading the paper, reached into his pocket just as Jim, who was scrambling a couple of eggs, said, "It's mine."  
  
He took the pan off the fire, put the spatula down, and dug the phone out of his pocket.  
  
"Ellison. Yes, Mr. Keeler…no, I understand…oh, really? Yes, can you send that to me? All of it? Yes, my email is on my card. No, that's all right. I'll call you if we need anything else. Yes, and thank you." He closed the phone, put it back in his pocket, slid the eggs onto the plate and carried it over to the table.  
  
As he and Blair helped themselves to the eggs, they watched Jake alternate between slurping and chattering with Goody. They had a tacit agreement that they never discussed cases in their son's presence and this morning was no exception. But Blair could figure out that their later meeting with Robert Keeler was no longer necessary.  
  
***  
  
"my gampa carl will be here at six, he promused, so will you, daddy?"  
  
"I sure hope so, honey. We'll keep you posted."  
  
"kay!" With that, Blair let him down and Jake, who'd spotted Corky, took off toward the playground. Watching his son run, pure joy on his face, Blair stayed where he was, simply enjoying the moment. He figured in another year, maybe two if they were lucky, carrying Jake at all would be a no-no, let alone anywhere near a school.  
  
He finally had to leave to meet Jim at the station. With great regret, he turned away and walked back to the car. He hated leaving Jake; it was still, after all this time, a physical hurt, a tug that tightened his chest. He wondered if the feeling ever ended or at least lessened.  
  
He doubted it.

*****

"I bet that muffin and coffee is a bribe," Serena said as Jim walked into her lab.  
  
"Why, Serena, I'm wounded here. I can't believe you think so little of me--"  
  
"Is the muffin for me?"  
  
"Well, yes."  
  
"Is it blueberry-walnut, my favorite?"  
  
"Now that you mention it--"  
  
"And the coffee, would it be the Serena Organic Blend, by any chance?"  
  
"Well, yes…."  
  
"But it's not a bribe - right. Well, luckily for you, I got the tox results ten minutes ago. You're also lucky that you asked me to run it first thing. We found aspartame in her system and before it could be absorbed any further. If we'd waited to draw the blood as we normally do, the amount wouldn't have set off any alarm bells - if it showed at all."  
  
"Wait. Aspartame? As in the artificial sweetener?"  
  
"One and the same."  
  
"So you're saying it can be used to drug someone?"  
  
"To the degree we found it in her system, most definitely. The effect is called 'neurotoxic illness'. In this case, she probably found herself feeling pretty good, energetic even, but not for long. She'd have crashed and burned pretty quickly."  
  
"As in pass out?"  
  
Serena nodded. "Very probably."  
  
"How fast would it react, once ingested? And I'm assuming you found no evidence of needle penetration?"  
  
"You'd be right in that assumption. And at the dose I suspect, she'd have started to feel a bit antsy within, say, ten, fifteen minutes, possibly a bit short-tempered, then the euphoria would set in, along with the burst of energy. I'd say, and this is an educated guess based on her weight and height, she probably started feeling woozy within thirty minutes of ingesting it."  
  
"Wouldn't she have noticed if a sweetener had been added to that extent? Wouldn't she have tasted it?"  
  
"Not if served in something hot. That's why substitute sweeteners using aspartame aren't recommended for cooking. Heat causes it to breakdown and it loses its sweetness."  
  
"Would it have killed her?"  
  
Serena shook her head. "No, but she'd have certainly had problems later. Headache, bowel disruptions, nausea, that kind of thing, but death? No. There was enough to incapacitate her, to ultimately make her very ill, but under normal, healthy conditions, no."  
  
"Anything else I should be aware of?"  
  
"She was unconscious when she died, as you probably already figured, and now you know why. Oh, and the item used to strangle her was made of cashmere. Which explains the three strands you found. They matched the material imbedded in her skin."  
  
Jim whistled in admiration and handed the food container over. "You deserve this and more."  
  
"Fine. I'll have the same tomorrow morning," she answered with a saucy grin.  
  
Heading out, Jim waved a hand and said, "I'll make sure Sandburg takes care of it."  
  
***  
  
"So it happened at work, then," Blair said once Jim had filled him in.  
  
"Yep."  
  
"You know…didn't Collier say that…wait a minute, let me get my notes." Blair shuffled through the pages of his notebook, stopped after a few pages, hummed a little, and finally read, "'I asked Nathanial to get her coffee while she waited.'" He looked back up. "Fits the timeline Serena gave you, fits it to the proverbial 'T'."  
  
"It sure does." Jim turned back to his computer and logged into his emails. "Let's hope Keeler's sent me that file…ah-ha, here it is, zipped nice and tidy…I'm going to print it out." A few keystrokes later and he said, "There we go."  
  
Blair got up and headed over to the printer and finally returned with a handful of pages. "Holy shit, what is this, a book?"  
  
Several minutes later, after splitting up the paperwork, Blair looked up and said, "Jim, the brown file was on Collier, not the other way around." He put his half of the pages down and added, "I bet any amount of money that the meeting with Collier was her idea, that she confronted him with this."  
  
Jim got up and, after tossing Blair his jacket, said, "Well, let's go do some confronting of our own."  
  
***  
  
The nice thing about the Cascade PD building was the ramp that spanned the distance between it and the courthouse. On a cold, blustery November day, it was a godsend, not that Blair minded a walk, oh, no, not him. Good for the lungs. But still…the nice, covered ramp was…nice.  
  
They made their way to Collier's chambers and once again were met by Nathanial, who immediately got to his feet.  
  
"Judge Collier isn't here, Detectives, and won't be--"  
  
That was as far as he got. The door to Collier's chambers opened and the Judge himself, eyes on the paper in his hand, appeared. "Nathanial, get me Judge Edwards and would you see if you can find the rest of this memorandum?" He looked up then, to hand the item over, and spotted Jim and Blair. "Back again, I see."  
  
"I'm sorry, Judge, I tried to keep them from interfering--"  
  
"Interfering, Nathanial?" Jim asked. "Don't we watch Law and Order? Don't we know that *we're* the Law and Judge Collier, the Order?"  
  
Looking somewhat confused, Collier stepped aside and said, "Please, come in. I'm sure you're here about the file copy?"  
  
"You might say that, Judge," Jim said. "Do you mind if he," Jim jerked his thumb at Nathanial, "joins us?"  
  
Blair recognized Jim's current MO; he was playing the big, dumb, jackass of a cop, which meant Blair needed to switch into his pseudo-intellectual jackass of a cop.  
  
He loved it when they role-played.  
  
Collier looked doubtfully over at Nathanial before finally nodding his head. As they followed the two men into the Judge's chambers, Blair realized that Jim knew who the killer was - and now, thanks to the maneuvering and posturing - so did he.  
  
Collier took his seat and immediately put on the cloak of superiority that had him reminding Blair of a peacock. A stuffed peacock.  
  
"I assume that my file gave you several excellent leads, Detective Ellison?"  
  
"I wouldn't know - it was too boring for me. I handed it over to Joe College here." Jim indicated Blair as he added, "But from what he reported, my opinion of boring was upheld. Sandburg, fill the judge in."  
  
Shooting Collier an apologetic look, one that said, 'Hey, I have to work with the Neanderthal', Blair said, "From what I read, the cases documented were pretty cut and dried. There didn't appear to be any improprieties with regards to her rulings, nothing out of the ordinary."  
  
"I'm sure you're very intelligent, Detective Sandburg, but you're hardly an adequate judge of proper versus improper rulings, now are you?"  
  
"Hey, he does all right. Besides, we found something more interesting than your file, Judge," Jim said. "See, it seems that Judge Keeler's briefcase was missing, and you yourself said she had it when she met with you, so we know she had it when she went to her car--"  
  
"How could you know that?" Nathanial asked. "She could have gone back to her office…."  
  
"Oh, no," Blair answered almost apologetically. "We have the security tapes and they show her stepping out of the elevator with the case slung over her shoulder just as the Judge described."  
  
"Yep," Jim said. "But when her body was found - it wasn't. Funny, huh?"  
  
Blair had to bite back a grin. He could almost see the bit of hay hanging out of Jim's mouth.  
  
"So…the killer took it, which means it *was* a robbery," Collier said.  
  
"Nope. The killer was looking for something, but he didn't get it. We found it - or should I say, her husband found it on her home computer. Judge Keeler was killed because of the information in her computer, information our killer thought was in her briefcase. He went to all the trouble of killing her only to come up empty-handed. Makes him kind of stupid, if you know what I mean."  
  
"Detective Ellison, perhaps you'd like to tell me what this has to do with me? Or do you think--"  
  
"I think a lot of things, Judge. Like the meeting between you and Judge Keeler? I'm thinking you didn't ask for it at all. I'm thinking she requested it. Would that be accurate?"  
  
Eyes hardening, Collier leaned forward and said, "Absolutely not."  
  
Jim matched the man's body language and said, "Oh, I'm afraid so. You see, the evidence on her computer pertained to *you*. You were the one favoring specific special interest groups, not Judge Keeler, and she was the one doing the 'brown file', Judge. Not you."  
  
"My God, you think I killed her," Collier said, astonished.  
  
"Well, as long as you've said it - yeah, I do. Unless you know of someone else who might be interested in…say…protecting you?"  
  
Blair made sure to keep his eyes on Collier and not Nathanial at that point as Jim cocked his head and added, "Maybe one of your 'special interest' folks?"  
  
"Oh, I don't think so, Jim," Blair said right on cue. "Remember, she had to have been drugged while she was here."  
  
"Damn, you're right. So that brings us right back--"  
  
"Drugged? What the hell are you talking about?"  
  
"Simple, Judge. She was drugged to make it easier to kill her."  
  
"And what, you think *I* did that? How? Just tell me how?"  
  
"The coffee," Blair said quietly.  
  
"Coffee? What coffee? What the hell are you…."  
  
Collier's voice trailed off as the truth smacked him between the eyes. It was too sudden, too quick for him to hide it and too horrific to keep himself from turning and facing Nathanial as comprehension sunk in. "You…you served her…I asked you to… Nathanial, tell me you didn't…."  
  
Nathanial's face reddened and he started to stammer out a denial, but Collier went on, just as Jim and Blair hoped he would.  
  
"*You* killed her? Why? For God's sake--"  
  
"She was going to destroy you, Judge," Nathanial almost whined. "She had *proof*!"  
  
"You think I couldn't have handled her stupid complaints? For God's sake, I went to school with Mayor Rawlings, you ass. I was in complete control."  
  
Jumping to his feet, Nathanial almost yelled, "I did it for *you*! She could have ruined everything - all our plans for the Senate - she'd have *ruined* everything!"  
  
Jim got to his feet. "Well, I think we're done here. Nathanial Stevenson, you're under arrest for the murder of Judge Rebecca Keeler. You have the right to remain silent--"  
  
He got no further as Nathanial decided that was the perfect time to attempt an escape. Hand gripping the bust of Daniel Webster that sat on the edge of Collier's desk, he lifted it and hurled it with all his strength - directly at Jim.  
  
Who, thanks to sentinel senses, ducked.  
  
Unfortunately, Blair didn't have sentinel senses - but he was a cop now, with a cop's instincts - and he dodged.  
  
Unfortunately, he didn't dodge quite far enough to the left - the bust struck him in the shoulder. By then, Jim was moving and had Nathanial down on the ground. Cuffs out, he finished Mirandizing him before asking, "Chief? You okay?"  
  
"I think my arm is falling off."  
  
"Ah, glad to know you're okay."  
  
"Dick."  
  
***  
  
"…he left as soon as he'd put the phones on call forward and planted the red herring, namely the 7:30 meeting, on her computer. He immediately went down to his car, drove to level 3, and pulled in and angled the vehicle to make it look as though he'd had a problem with it. Then he waited. When he spotted her car, he got out of his and waved her down. He told her his car had stalled out on him so she pulled in and offered to take him to his mechanic. He got into her vehicle and then confessed that he simply wanted to ask her not to go any further in her 'investigation' of Judge Collier. By that time, she was really starting to feel the effects of the aspartame, was probably very sleepy and yeah, passed out.  
  
"At that point, he got her carefully out of the car and laid her down. He went back, got her purse, keys and briefcase, put the purse next to her, and then took his own cashmere muffler and strangled her as cold bloodedly as you can imagine. He knew he couldn't leave her car where it was because he needed it to look as though she'd parked there, so he got in, backed it up, and parked it in a legitimate spot. He cleaned the front seat thoroughly with a cleaner he kept in the trunk of his own car, then locked it up. He dropped the keys by her hand, took the briefcase and her parking pass, got into his own car and drove out through the Bleak Street exit, which, as you know, is used by the public after five when the guards are off duty. The gates are raised and locked so it's easy to exit and no one is there to log you out. Once home, he burned the muffler, the contents of the case, the case itself and the pass in his fireplace. Stupid man that he is, he never even looked at the contents, just assumed the evidence against Collier was there."  
  
"Not so stupid, Jim. It was actually quite brilliant. He just didn't count on a sentinel being assigned to the case. But why take her?" Simon asked.  
  
"To add to the confusion," Blair answered for Jim.  
  
His shoulder had been looked at by an EMT and pronounced "Bruised but not broken" and, while he was favoring it slightly, he'd refused a sling. Some analgesic cream later on, and maybe a massage from Jim, and he knew he'd be fine. Now, as Simon looked at him with a puzzled frown, he added, "We find her and her car on Three but no pass, so we stupid cops assume she lost it and just parked on one of the public levels rather than hassle trying to get a new one that morning. And pardon me, but if he'd been truly brilliant, he'd have made it look like a robbery. Just taking the briefcase sent up alarms all over the place."  
  
"Can't argue with that," Simon agreed. Then he shook his head and said sadly, "Bottom line is - we lost a good friend, a good woman, because a stupid, egotistical judge decided to run for the Senate."  
  
Jim nodded. "Nathanial really believed it was his chance too. He was, to say the least, highly invested in Collier's career. He was the man behind the man."  
  
"At least she never knew about her husband's infidelity," Simon said.  
  
"Oh, I don't know about that," Blair mused. "She was a very smart woman and spouses always know, on some level."  
  
"Damn," Simon cursed. "I would have preferred to think…oh, hell, never mind." He looked over at Jim and said, "Get me your reports and then take Sandburg and his bruised ego…er…shoulder…and go home. It's only a little after eleven, consider it a half day to make up for yesterday."  
  
"My ego isn't bruised in the slightest, I dodged, just not far enough. And, well, actually, we were kind of hoping to take next Monday, Simon," Blair said.  
  
"Fine, fine, but since you're no use to anyone with that shoulder, get me my paperwork and go home," Simon said gruffly.  
  
"Right, Sir. Yes, Sir," Blair said as he got to his feet and gave Simon a smart, sharp salute with his good arm.  
  
Jim pulled him out of the office even as he muttered, "One of these days, Chief, he's going to kill you."  
  
Simon grinned as he heard Blair's response….  
  
"Nah, he loves me. I'm a lovable guy."  
  
***  
  
It was twelve-fifteen when their reports went into Simon's in-box, which meant they had just enough time to surprise their son by picking him up at school. After a quick call to Naomi telling her she didn't have to do it, they were on their way.  
  
Simon had made the call to Robert Keeler to give him the news, and over at the courthouse the only weeping was for the loss of Judge Keeler, not that Collier was ruined and his clerk in jail for Keeler's murder.  
  
"You want to pick him up while I run to the store?" Blair asked as they walked to their respective vehicles.  
  
"You sure you can drive?"  
  
Blair flexed his right arm for his partner, winced only slightly, and said, "Yeah, no problem. I was far enough away that by the time that stupid bust reached me, it had lost most of its momentum."  
  
"Yeah, right. Tonight, I'm going to give you a massage, and yes, we'll skip telling either of your parents *or* Jake, so don't worry." Seeing the grateful look his partner shot him, Jim grinned and then asked, "So what are you planning for tonight?"  
  
"I was thinking about a pork roast."  
  
"Oh, now you're talking. Perfect for a cold November night. You gonna do those roasted potatoes?"  
  
"Yep. You'll do the salad?"  
  
"Yeah, something different, though. Get some Bibb lettuce and anchovies. I'll make the Green Goddess dressing."  
  
"Oh, yeah, we haven't had that in - hell, I don't know how long. What about string beans?"  
  
"Yeah, I'll roast them too."  
  
"Perfect. I'll stop at the bakery and pick up something good for dessert."  
  
"Sounds like we have a plan," Jim said with a grin.  
  
***  
  
He came flying down the steps of the school entrance, backpack bouncing behind him, Corky and Cherry fast on his heels. All three were laughing even as they ran for the sidewalk. When Jake spotted the truck, he skidded to a stop, which caused Corky to thud into him, and Cherry into Corky.  
  
Jim couldn't repress the grin. He got out, walked around the front of the vehicle and stepped up onto the curb. Jake recovered from his delighted surprise and, a moment later, Jim had a five year old launching himself at him with all the confidence that came with knowing that his poppy would always catch him.  
  
Which Jim did.  
  
"Hey, Hoss, how was your day?"  
  
Arms wrapped tight around Jim's neck, Jake leaned back just enough to see his poppy and say, "it was goooood, but now it's waaaaaay better, poppy!"  
  
Corky and Cherry bounded up at that moment, both exclaiming their wonder at his surprising appearance at their school. Corky tugged on his jeans and asked, "are you taking us home too, mr. poppy?"  
  
Only slightly taken back by the use of 'poppy' instead of the usual "Mr. Jim", he shook his head. "I'm afraid not, guys. In fact, there's your babysitter now, Cork."  
  
The small redhead turned and, spying Judy, his sitter, grinned and happily ran towards her. At the same moment, Makeba pulled up.  
  
After all the necessary exchange of chatter and goodbyes, Makeba had Cherry buckled in and was off, and Judy had Corky in tow for the short walk home. Jake was now safely ensconced in his child safety seat and asking tons of questions, all revolving around how come his poppy had come to pick him up and where was daddy and what were they having for dinner because it had to be "speshul' for my gampa carl" and why couldn't his gampa bill join them too and his nomi, and uncle simon, and Jim figured that having the entire world to dinner wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility for their son. He drove carefully, as much for their safety as the fact that he loved listening to Jake chatter and, in doing so, knew he was relying on his senses to get them home so that he *could* enjoy the sounds coming from the backseat.  
  
When their street finally came into view and the Volvo was conspicuous by its absence, Jake's pout took over. Jim pulled into the garage, shut down, got Jake out and, as they started out, said, "He's at the store, and you know what it's like, Hoss. It's only natural that we'd beat him home."  
  
Goody started barking from behind the fence, his 'Come play with me as I welcome you home with lavish slurps' bark, and Jake, apparently satisfied by Jim's comment, took off for the gate. He couldn't reach the latch, so had to wait, none too patiently, for Jim. Once open, Goody did her little dance, up on her hind legs, and not content to land on all fours until Jake got down with her and put his face within range of her overactive tongue.  
  
Making sure the gate was closed and latched, Jim took Jake's backpack and left the two to play while he went inside.  
  
It felt good to be home, which was weird, because once he was at work, it always felt good, just as right, to be there. And it wasn't as if he preferred being home, or at work, it was just that each, when there, felt great. He looked around the sunny kitchen, labeled it 'home', proceeded through the dining room, past the sunken living room with its soft colors of the earth and large, comfortable, overstuffed couch and chairs that flanked the fireplace, and felt it again, the sense of home. On the wall above the mantle, the wonderful portrait of Jake smiled at him and brought an answering smile to his own face.  
  
He went on down the long hall to Jake's room, sun-dappled, messy and smelling wonderfully of Jake, Goody, chalk and Jake's paints. He only intended on dropping off the pack but instead, sat down on Jake's bed. He could hear him, hear his high, musical laughter outside as he and Goody played.  
  
Home.  
  
They still had work to do on the house, small things, trivial really, but the kind that neither he nor Blair would be able to let go. The kind of things that put closure on the feeling of ownership, on making it theirs. But Jake's room, it was complete, whole, although missing a vital component at the moment, namely its owner. But still, his soul was present.  
  
Jim smiled at his mushy thoughts that he would once have assigned to Blair. Then he heard the engine of the Volvo and got up.  
  
The rest of 'home' had just pulled into the driveway and it was time to prepare for the evening.  
  
***  
  
"but i could help, i could," Jake said from his spot at the table.  
  
"Well, I think you'll have your hands full with that drawing you're doing for your grandfather, plus you already put together our appetizer, so I think maybe your poppy and I can handle the rest. And since we don't have to worry about dessert, it won't take long. You can finish, and then we'll play a game. How does that sound?"  
  
"i'm down with that, daddy!"  
  
"I knew you would be," Blair said as he finished rinsing the green beans.  
  
Jim closed the fridge after leaving the pork roast, now rubbed with spices and seasonings and covered in plastic wrap, sitting next to the carafe of dressing he'd already made and the bowl of cut potatoes that had been quickly blanched in preparation for roasting later. He turned around to see Blair laying the beans out on a cookie sheet covered with paper towels and waited until he'd patted them dry and added a top layer of toweling before taking it from him and putting it in the fridge as well.  
  
Wiping his hands, Blair said, "Well, that's everything. I'm thinking some English muffins with Cheese Whiz, a few apple slices, and we settle down with…which game, Jake?"  
  
Without lifting his head from the task at hand, he said, "monopoly, a'course."  
  
"How could I not know that?"  
  
"Chief, you're slipping."  
  
"Age is upon me."  
  
"Oh, don't say that. If it's upon you, it's melted into me."  
  
"Truth is truth and you're so melted, man."  
  
"And you're so in for it later, *man*."  
  
Laughing while ducking out of Jim's reach, Blair grabbed the package of English muffins and, with his left hand, tossed them to him. Catching them, Jim said, "This won't save you, Chief."  
  
"I'm not looking to get saved - yet."  
  
"Ah, we'll save that for later, then."  
  
"Okay, we just entered the Twilight Zone, so just make the muffins while I slice up some apples."  
  
"Don't use all of them, I want some for the roast," Jim reminded.  
  
"No worries."  
  
They worked together, both fully aware that Jake had been watching their interaction with a huge grin on his face.  
  
***  
  
With two cheesy, buttery fingers, Jake moved the hat three spaces and immediately crowed, "boardwalk is *mine*!" He handed over the appropriate amount of money to Jim, their banker, and gleefully sat back, hugging the card to his chest.  
  
"How does he do this every-single-time?"  
  
"It's a talent, Jim. It's a talent."  
  
"Yeah, well, he may own them, but building on them is altogether different. I'm going to wipe up the sidewalk with our little financier. You wait and see if I don't."  
  
An hour later - Jim was broke and out of the game. Twenty minutes later, his partner joined him in the poor house.  
  
"You know," Blair said as he handed over his last fifty dollars, thanks to having landed on one of Jake's many properties full of hotels, "I think it's time for a nap, don’t you, Jim?"  
  
"Oh, definitely."  
  
"you can take a nap, i won't mind. i'll just watch television," Jake said cagily.  
  
"Nice try, buster. You're going to be up a bit later than usual, so a couple of hours napping is just the ticket," Blair said as Jim started putting the game away.  
  
"do i have to?" Jake whined.  
  
"Four most-oft-used words in midget land," Jim murmured.  
  
Trying not to laugh, Blair got up and held out his hand, which, eventually, a defeated Jake took.  
  
As he led him down the hall, Jim could hear Jake as he tried to talk his father out of the nap.  
  
"but i might oversleep and then i couldn't get into my costume for gampa carl."  
  
"We'll wake you in plenty of time."  
  
"but...but…but you and poppy need *help* tidying up and if i don't help, we'll have a dirty house for my gampa carl."  
  
"We're pretty clean, Hoss, so no worries there."  
  
"but…but…but you *need* me."  
  
"You got me there, Hoss. We do need you. But we also need you to take a nap."  
  
They were in Jake's room and Jim heard one shoe thud to the ground as Jake muttered, "i walked into that one, didn't i, daddy?"  
  
"Head first, son, head first."  
  
***  
  
"What's he doing now?" Blair asked.  
  
"He can't find the hobo jacket and he's currently tearing up his room, which he'll have to clean up again before your father gets here."  
  
Jake's nap was history, the house smelled of pork roast, and it was five-thirty. Jake had awakened on his own, just twenty minutes earlier, demanding to be allowed to put on his costume " **now, please**!"  
  
Blair cocked his head at Jim and started to ask, "Should we--"  
  
"He found it," Jim said unnecessarily, since Jake's whoop of glee was audible at least three houses down. "He'll be in here momentarily, asking you to make him up, I'm thinking."  
  
"I might as well head back there then," Blair said while not moving an inch.  
  
Jim tightened his arm around Blair's waist and, as he buried his nose in Blair's hair, whispered, "You have time…."  
  
"You gotta love sentinels - all that multi-tasking," Blair murmured even as he turned in Jim's arms and directed the man's head forward so he could kiss him.  
  
"daddeeeeeee!" Jake wailed from his bedroom.  
  
Reluctantly parting, they touched foreheads before Blair got up, adjusted his jeans, and headed for Jake.  
  
Sitting back, Jim had to smile.  
  
Life as a parent; nothing like it in the world.  
  
***  
  
"Okay, time to go out back, Jake," Jim said. "He's almost here."  
  
Jake, in full costume, jumped up, hobo stick and bag in hand. Blair grinned and said, "You know the drill. You wait in the backyard with Poppy, and then come to the front door and ring the bell. All right?"  
  
"yup! come on, poppy, we gotta go hide *now*!"  
  
Taking his little hobo's hand, Jim led him to the kitchen and out the back door while Blair waited for his father. A few moments later, Carl knocked and Blair hurried to answer.  
  
"Hey, Dad, good to have you home," he said as he stepped aside to let his father enter.  
  
Carl Sabotini stepped in with a nice November wind. "Good to be home. I'm so damn sorry to have missed Jake's Halloween, though." He slipped out of his jacket, which Blair took and hung up in the coat closet by the door, and looked around. "Speaking of Jake, where is he?"  
  
"Oh, he's probably in the bedroom - he was working on a special drawing for you," Blair lied gracefully.  
  
"What about Jim? Don't tell me he had to go into the station? No, that can't be it, you'd be with him…."  
  
At that moment, the door bell rang. Grinning, Blair picked up the small bowl on the entry hall table and handed it to Carl. "You're going to need this."  
  
Carl wasn't a successful businessman for nothing. All it took was one look at the candy in the bowl to figure things out. With an excited gleam in his eyes, he said, "You know, why don't you let me answer?"  
  
"Good idea, Pops," Blair answered, his own eyes shining with humor.  
  
Carl opened the door and found a junior-sized hobo standing on the porch.  
  
"trick-or-treat!"  
  
If he was disappointed that Jake was a hobo instead of Superman, it didn't show. Only true delight at seeing his grandson in costume could be seen on his face. Beaming, he said, "Wow, this is amazing. I thought I'd missed Halloween, but I guess not. Isn't it lucky I have treats?"  
  
Since real candy hadn't been part of the plan, Jake was delightfully surprised as his grandfather took a handful of Hershey Kisses and dropped them into the hobo bag.  
  
"There you go, young man. I only wish my grandson were here, he'd love your hobo costume."  
  
"but gampa carl, it's **me**! jake!"  
  
"Oh, my gosh, Jake, is that really you?"  
  
Nodding his head firmly, which almost dislodged the Fargo hat, Jake marched in, a bemused Jim trailing behind him. Handing his now candy-filled bag up to his other father, Jake said, "and i'm not just a hobo, gampa, lookeeee." With that, he repeated a series of gestures he'd done more times than either Blair or Jim had been able to count on Halloween. The shirt was pulled up to reveal the Superman costume and his sleeve was rolled back to show the Spiderman Super-Duper Web-maker. Then he turned to his poppy and said, "staff, my apprentice!"  
  
Saluting smartly, Jim handed it over.  
  
"an' see? i have my great wizard jake staff! i be everything, gampa!"  
  
Carl simply held out his arms. Jake was in them and up almost instantly. They exchanged kisses - every possible kind, including a new one, the Goody kiss, before Carl could say, "I'm so sorry I missed your big night, but I'm very glad you recreated it just for me, Jake."  
  
Jake hugged him hard, and at that moment Blair realized that what was happening - should have happened a year ago - with Karen. And judging by the way Jake was holding on, there was something inside of him that acknowledged it as well. Carl looked a bit confused, so to break the moment and bring them all back to the present, Blair cleared his throat and said, "Jake, I bet your grandfather would love to try your appetizers. Why don't you take Poppy into the kitchen and get him to help you bring it all out?"  
  
"oh, goody!" Bright blue eyes gazed into a similar pair as Jake added, "i made it speshul, jest for you, gampa carl! it's yummmmmmmy!"  
  
Putting him down, albeit reluctantly, Carl watched as Jake scampered off toward the kitchen.  
  
"Yes, well, I obviously have my duty," Jim said as he walked past Carl and Blair. "Glad to see you, by the way."  
  
Laughing, Carl said, "Same here, Jim. And thank you for letting me have a small taste of his Halloween."  
  
"Oh, hey, our pleasure--"  
  
"poppeeeeeeee!"  
  
"I think that was the unique call of the rare, but beloved, Phantom Hobo," Blair remarked dryly.  
  
"Yes, well, before he brings the heavens down upon us, I'd best go. Be right back," Jim said even as he was moving - rather rapidly - toward the kitchen, his worry about the state in which he'd find it evident on his face.  
  
As he opened the door and walked in, both Carl and Blair could hear his, "You bellowed, Master?"  
  
Laughing, Blair took his father's arm and guided him down to the living room. But before sitting down, he found himself wrapped in the other man's arms. Still new to even having a father, let alone one as demonstrative as himself, Blair didn't react immediately, but eventually his own need to connect with the man asserted itself and he brought his arms up to return the hug, albeit careful of his right shoulder.  
  
They finally broke apart, both smiling almost shyly and a bit self-consciously, but before it could even begin to get awkward, the kitchen door swung open and Jake walked carefully out, a small platter balanced precariously on his hands. Behind him, Jim held a tray with a pitcher and four glasses.  
  
"gampa carl, i made app…appa… i made goodies!"  
  
"And boy, am I glad, because I have to tell you, Jake, I'm starved and that looks good enough to…well, to eat," Carl said as he winked at Blair.  
  
Jake made it down the one step into the living room, probably based on Jim's will alone, and set the platter on the table. He pointed proudly and said, "see? crackers, three kinds, and cheese, with my favorite, stringy cheese and mozzyrella, and my poppy helped me cut the pears."  
  
Carl looked over the platter, at the 'goodies' which had been artfully displayed by five- year-old fingers, and whistled low. "I have to tell you, Jake, this looks better than anything I've had in days." He glanced up at his grandson and asked, "May I?"  
  
Looking proud as a peacock - a hobo peacock - Jake nodded excitedly - and this time the Fargo hat did fall off, but Blair, anticipating just that, caught it easily even as Jake was saying, "dig in, gampa carl!"  
  
Jim put the tray with the pitcher of iced tea down, picked up the small paper plates he'd thought to bring with him, and set them next to the napkins Jake had just set out.  
Carl took a plate and, with half an eye on Jake, who was waiting to see what he'd choose, took one of each type of cracker, and a sampling of each cheese. Then he added three pear slices, nodded sagely, and said, "This would appear to be absolutely the best combination, don't you agree, Jake?"  
  
Looking inordinately pleased with himself and his grandfather's choices, he simply said, "yup!"  
  
***  
  
For an hour, they'd all chatted easily, with Jake catching his grandfather up on the carnival, school and his current artwork, which he'd proudly presented with the immortal and beloved words, "i made this for you, gampa carl!" Then, while Jake sat contentedly on the floor, playing with his new Lego set, courtesy of his grandfather, the grownups caught up on each other's lives and Carl's new business venture.  
  
When the oven timer went off in the kitchen, Jim, the only one who'd heard it, naturally, got up and said, "I think dinner's about ready, so why don't we all head into the dining room? Jake, you want to help me serve?"  
  
Looking up with a hopeful expression on his face, he asked, "can i, poppy? really?"  
  
"You did a great job with the appetizers, so yep, let's get this dinner going."  
  
As Jake scrambled to his feet, Blair and Carl rose too and walked much more sedately into the dining room. As they sat down - the knowing of where to sit courtesy of Jake's colorful placards - the voices in the kitchen could be heard, the soft, helpful words belonging to Jim and the high, sweet "yups!" just as obviously not. Grinning broadly, Carl said, "I could get used to this."  
  
"That's the plan," Blair said, his eyes warm with love.  
  
***  
  
The pork, sliced on a platter and surrounded by the roasted potatoes and caramelized apples, was carried in by Jim while Jake handled the bowl with the string beans and the wire bread basket with the rolls. The salad was already on salad plates and dressed nicely with tomatoes, croutons and Jim's dressing.  
  
Once Jake placed his load on the table, he got into his chair and stared at the green mass and scrunched up his face. "have i had this before? it's…green."  
  
Suppressing a grin, Jim said, "No, I don't think I've made it for you, Jake, what with you being a connoisseur of bleu cheesey dressing and all. But trust me, you'll like it. I promise."  
  
Seeing the 'I don't think so' expression on Jake's face, Blair said, "Would we steer you wrong, Hoss?"  
  
"no-o-o, but…it's *green*!"  
  
"So are the beans and lettuce," Carl offered reasonably. "It's a green, mean dinner."  
  
Jake's lips started to curl upward as he picked up his fork. He moved the lettuce around a bit before finally - with his fingers - picking up a crouton, one with just enough dressing to taste it without it poisoning him. He popped it into his mouth and, with eyes tightly closed, chewed it. "mmmm, tangy," he finally pronounced.  
  
"I think that means he likes it," Carl noted.  
  
"Yep," Blair agreed.  
  
Jake proved it by diving in - with his fork this time.  
  
***  
  
"…Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today. We are doing all we can to recapture Black," said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, "and we beg the magical community to remain calm."  
  
Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.  
  
"Well, really, I had to, don't you know," said an irritable Fudge. "Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it - who'd believe him if he did?"  
  
While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse…."  
  
Blair caught Carl's eye and immediately pulled his finger across his throat. Nodding, Carl closed the book and said, "Okay, I think that's it for tonight, Jake. Unless I'm very much mistaken, it's your bedtime."  
  
"but…but…but…you *can't* end it there! what happens next? will harry get to hogwarts? is sirius black gonna get him? and what about voldymart? and my dumbledore?"  
  
"All excellent questions, Hoss," Jim said as he got to his feet. "Questions that will have to wait until tomorrow." Jim narrowed his eyes and, putting on his best cop voice, added, "Now, young man, if you promise to go quietly, we'll let your grandfather tuck you in tonight."  
  
Giggling and clearly not in the least put off by Jim's demeanor or voice, Jake slid off his grandfather's lap. After kisses, hugs and goodnights with his fathers, he held up his hand, signaling that Carl should take it and they'd head off to his bedroom. Carl, being wise, took the small hand into his own and, with a grin aimed at Blair, headed for the back of the house.  
  
Jim sat back down and said, "Listening to him read tonight…it was like listening to you, Chief."  
  
"Is that a good thing?"  
  
"It's a weird thing, that's what it is," he answered with a smile. "I know I don't sound like my dad, Steven doesn't either."  
  
"No, but there are definite mannerisms you both share. William can be talking and he'll get this expression - and it's you."  
  
"Parents, go figure."  
  
"Excuse me? In case you've forgotten, we're parents."  
  
"Oh, yeah. So, what, someday Jake will be having this conversation with his SO?"  
  
"I don't think so, Jim," Blair said softly.  
  
Jim's expression softened as he said, "Blair, sometimes he's so much like you, it's scary. And you've heard Dad, how many times he's said that Jake looks just like me at that age."  
  
Blair shrugged. "Hey, maybe he will have this kind of conversation with her or him or whatever."  
  
Looking worried, Jim asked, "Whatever? What does that mean?"  
  
Blair just laughed.  
  
***  
  
Carl took another sip of coffee before saying, "You two have really created a beautiful home here."  
  
Jim looked around, a contented expression on his face. "Yeah, it is, isn't it?"  
  
Nodding, Carl added, "And all the more so because it reflects all three of you. Although," he glanced pointedly out the window that overlooked the backyard, "I was rather hoping for an apple-oriented dessert tonight."  
  
"Huh-oh," Blair murmured.  
  
"Hey, you're the one who said he'd stop by the bakery…we could have done turnovers," Jim said.  
  
"Oh, so it's my fault, is it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Carl found himself chuckling at the two men, so obviously in love, deeply in love. He envied his son. Sighing, he put the cup down and said, "I guess you'll just have to invite me back for those turnovers. I think I can handle that."  
  
This time, it was Jim's turn to laugh. "Oh, yeah, a real hardship."  
  
"Speaking of hardships," Carl said. "We've talked about a trip to Palermo and, after talking to Mamma, well, she'd love it if perhaps…for Christmas…."  
  
When Blair didn't respond immediately, Carl said, "Is that a bad time to take your vacation?"  
  
"No, no," Blair finally said. "It's not that." He shot a look at Jim and was relieved to see understanding in his eyes. "It's more…we certainly want to go…I want to go…but right now, I think…well, tradition, stability, these are critical to Jake at this age and this will only be his second Christmas and the first one here--"  
  
Carl put up a hand. "Say no more. Of course, I should have realized."  
  
"Uhm…what are the chances…I mean, could…could maybe…could my grandmother come here for the holidays?"  
  
Carl grinned. "She hates to travel, but for this, I don't think I'll have a problem talking her into it. Her desire to see you is far greater than her fear of flying." He cocked his head then and asked, "Just how many family members are you willing to have?"  
  
Blair gave an audible gulp and said, "How many…are there?"  
  
"Dozens. You have cousins, aunts and uncles up the ying-yang."  
  
"But surely…I mean, would they--"  
  
When Carl started laughing, Blair gave him a sheepish grin. "You got me, didn't you?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. But on the truthful side, my sister, your Aunt Gabrielle, will want to travel with Mamma, and of course, she isn't likely to leave her husband, your Uncle Tony, and their three children behind, is she?"  
  
"So…six," Jim said in a hollow tone.  
  
"Six," Carl affirmed, his eyes sparkling with humor.  
  
Blair leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "So with Mom, Simon, your dad, Sally, Steven, his wife and their daughter - because Christmas is with us this year and Thanksgiving with her parents in England - and Daryl with his girlfriend, and John and Megan because they can't go to Australia… Man, this is going to be one terrific Christmas and Hanukkah."  
  
"So does that mean we're a go?" Carl asked.  
  
"Oh, yeah, we're a major go, Dad. This is going to be so great."  
  
Jim looked at the two men and tried to imagine it - but even his imagination failed.  
  
Good God.  
  
***  
  
The house was quiet, dark. Carl had left a bit after ten and now Jim walked through his home, his usual final bit of sentry duty before joining Blair in their bedroom. He checked the locks, as he always did, and then smiled as he identified Blair's location. Instead of heading for their bedroom, he walked into Jake's room where his partner was sitting on the floor by Jake's bed.  
  
Jim sat next to him and whispered, "We've got to stop meeting like this."  
  
"Yeah, Goody's starting to get suspicious," Blair whispered back.  
  
Jim searched his partner's face, and what he found caused him to ask, "You okay?"  
  
Nodding, Blair said, "Sure. Just…just trying to figure out what it feels like to have a real family - a full out family. Sure, I've known for over two months now, but still, hearing it tonight and even though I've actually talked to her and exchanged emails, I mean, Jim, I've got a *grandmother*--"  
  
"Who actually uses a computer," Jim said, grinning. "And don't forget all those aunts, uncles and cousins," he added helpfully.  
  
"Yeah, exactly. And they're *Italian* and they speak *Italian* and I'm *half *Italian, and that's so strange because you think of yourself as one thing for your entire life and then wham, you're something else entirely and it's the coolest thing ever, but still...it's damn strange."  
  
"Bad strange, or just weird strange?"  
  
"Strange - strange. Just takes some getting used to, is all. I mean, come on, I have a *grandmother.*"  
  
Jim put his arm over the back of Blair's shoulder and, careful of the injured shoulder, tugged him close. "Yeah, you do. And we're going to have her here, along with a whole bunch of people for the holidays."  
  
"Family, home, and hearth," Blair said whisper soft.  
  
"And you're all three to me," Jim said as he rested his cheek against Blair's head.  
  
"That was…gross, man."  
  
"Damn, and here I thought it was incredibly romantic."  
  
"Romantically gross."  
  
Chuckling, Jim just held on tighter and took in the scents of his partner and son… and dog. Good, all of them. The touch of pork roast in the air didn't hurt either.

 

The End


End file.
